


Marital Bliss?

by ProtoChan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - In Storybrooke | Cursed, Captain Hook | Killian Jones In Love, Crack, Cursed Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Cursed Storybrooke, Dom Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Crack, Friendship, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Male Slash, POV Third Person, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Post-Curse Storybrooke, Rare Pairings, Storybrooke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-26 10:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 140,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3847471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProtoChan/pseuds/ProtoChan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angered by Rumple’s last-second "comfort" clause to her curse as well as sick of the dominance he has had over her for years, Regina decides that while cursing him, Rumple could use a "loving husband." And who better to marry him off to than his archenemy, Killian Jones? Twenty-eight years later, the couple are living a happy life together in Storybrooke. All seems blissful for Robert and Miles Gold until Robert encounters Emma Swan, and Rumplestiltskin suddenly finds himself curse-free, stranded without magic, and worst of all, married to Captain Hook of all people! Will he be able to move past his hatred of the pirate, if only for the chance to find his son? Is there a chance that Rumple could see past the monster he has made Hook out to be for three hundred years and see some semblance of goodness? Will he and an eventually curse-free Killian be able to pick up the pieces of their troubled pasts and build a life together?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Once Upon a Time or Once Upon a Time in Wonderland or any associated characters.
> 
> A/N: Hi! I hope you like this story. About a month ago, my friend and I were jokingly roleplaying Rumple and Hook bowling. That got me curious about the Golden Hook fandom, so I looked up some posts on tumblr (Read: I read almost every fic in the tag). After about an hour, it became my favorite crack ship, and my second favorite overall ship after Captain Swan (Don’t worry CS’ers, I still have some fun treats in store for you with these two adorable scamps)! I think, just as characters, they have some of the best chemistry on the show, and arguably have one of the most important relationships. 
> 
> I’ve seen a couple of users come up with the idea of Hook and Rumple being married under the Dark Curse, but I wanted to expand on it and delve more into their emotions, including their happiness together, as well as see how it would affect the rest of the series after. My plan is for the story to be spread all the way from before the First Curse to the end of the Zelena Arc.
> 
> Without further adieu, please enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Once Upon a Time or Once Upon a Time in Wonderland or any associated characters.
> 
> A/N: So, it’s been over two years since I first published this story, and finally, I decided to bring it to Tumblr! 
> 
> Now for a bit of context! A few years ago, I came across a few posts joking about Rumple and Killian’s relationship and pretending it was romantic. I thought they were funny, but mostly shrugged them off. However, after a night out with a former Once buddy (who is still a buddy buddy and the best buddy to ever buddy) where we roleplayed Rumple and Killian bowling together in a comedic setting, Afterwards, I began to get curious and looked into the Golden Hook tag. Needless to say, I had a very fun time (Read: I read almost every fic in the tag). After about an hour of browsing and reading, it became my favorite crack ship! I think, just as characters, they have some of the best chemistry on the show, and arguably have one of the most important relationships given how they are foils to one another in many respects. 
> 
> I’ve seen a couple of users come up with the idea of Hook and Rumple being married under the Dark Curse (Specifically, "He Asked for Comfort” by Crysania and "Fool's Gold" by Akaiba, both of which can be found on tumblr and AO3), but I wanted to expand on the basic premise and delve more into how it would affect the two going forward for the series after. My plan is for the story to be spread all the way from before the First Curse to the end of the Frozen Arc. 
> 
> As I said before, I’ve been working on this fic for a little over two years. Obviously, if I only had one chapter (and a short one at that) to show for it, that would be pretty pathetic. I actually have fifteen chapters at the time of this posting. However, while of course you’re free to check out the rest of them on either my AO3 or fanfiction.net accounts (ProtoChan is my username), I’m currently re-editing every chapter so I can get them in their best form, so if you’re interested, I’d appreciate if you just be patient with me so you can get the best reading experience! Thanks!
> 
> This fic has been a real passion project of mine, and given the unorthodox pairing, especially given the fandom neck of the woods I’m usually in, it’s been a fun writing challenge! I write for it everyday in some capacity and it makes me feel so good having something I can consistently do. I hope anyone who reads it has a good time!
> 
> Without further adieu, please enjoy!

**Prologue**

 

“My Queen!” The slave’s sky blue visage plastered itself over every mirror in the Queen’s chambers; there were panicked features everywhere Regina looked. He appeared a little after her now late father’s corpse had fallen cold on the floor, just as soon as the royal had finished gathering the dust that surrounded her feet and placed them into something she could carry.

 

A slammed door in the face was the mirror-bound Genie’s response to his cry for answers. Regina wasn’t in the mood to give him what he wanted, though really, when it came to her slave, she never was.

 

This time though, she shared in his panic and despair. How could she not?

 

_Daddy is dead._

 

The thought struck once more, like a bell that was repeatedly chimed on the hour at a church.

 

Her father was now **dead** , his body that was once so open and comforting was now still as a stone, and it was all thanks to **her**.

 

All magic came with a price. That was the mantra that had been ingrained into every step of her magical training. It made sense that the price for her revenge would be as steep as it was, and Regina felt silly in hindsight for thinking something as relatively small as her steed would suffice. The casting of the Dark Curse was to be her Magnum Opus, so to speak.

 

…That didn’t make crushing his heart any easier.

 

The fact was, like it or not, the deed was done and the former prince was no more. The queen’s adrenaline had all but run out and the guilt was beginning to settle like sand on the ocean floor after a hurricane. She needed to get him out of her thoughts, for if she didn’t, he would remain there, trickling doubt into her mind like rain on a roof. If he stayed in there long enough, she feared she would end up taking the dead man’s advice and talking herself out of ultimately casting it like a fool. The last of the ingredients needed was said to arrive in just a few hours, and there was little preparation to be done elsewhere. There was time, time begging to be filled.

 

The Evil Queen had taken to pacing across one of the castle’s many long hallways, her form moving back and forth gracefully across the floor. It wasn’t much, not as conventionally distracting as having her way with her prized Huntsman, but it kept her heart racing and her anger sharp, the latter of which she could never have during sex. Wax dripped down the candles lined up along the walls of the scantily lit space and the only sound present was the sound of the tapping of her shoes as she treaded the stone ground. Regina had soundproofed the hallway beside her bedroom as well as banished all mirrors with a wave of her hand. Though her guards were no strangers to her fits of rage, she’d rather not have anyone hear her right now, just in case her latest murder plagued upon her heart too much for her to mask the guilt.

Regina tried to focus on her triumph. Here she was, The Evil Queen, mere hours away from casting her curse. At last, Snow White would pay for Daniel’s demise, and the fates would regret the day they ever frowned down on her. She had prepared the location, and had stolen nearly all of the ingredients she formerly needed other villains for, the last of which was presently en route to her castle. No, after the failure that was her first attempt, she would not waste time with underlings at her side during what was truly only **her** moment of victory.

 

Or rather, she **wished** she would not have to.

 

Unfortunately though, to even **attempt** to cast the curse this time, she had had to reach for the help of one other monster, one who unlike the others, wasn’t as easy to rob of his contribution.

 

_Rumplestiltskin._

_No, don’t think of Daddy. Don’t even think of your victory. Think of that imp instead. This is **his** fault after all._

 

The late Henry, whenever Regina thought about him, ushered love into her heart, and unfortunately, accompanying that love was a sickly sense of doubt.

Rumplestiltskin, on the other hand, she could let consume her thoughts.

 

 **He** didn’t fill her with doubt like her father did. What he did fill her with was venom, venom as repulsive to the soul as the monster’s visage was to the eyes.

 

“Comfort! He wants comfort,” she called out to no one in particular, nearly in hysterics as she circled the room once more. “I’ll give him comfort,” the queen mumbled.

 

Regina hardly understood it. Well, she did understand it, but she wasn’t exactly happy about her circumstances.

 

The cost of the curse was bad enough. Now though, the casting of the Dark Curse was set to take place this very evening, and yet, somehow, at the very last second, Rumplestiltskin, the weasel that he was, got to put in a clause for comfort, wealth, and anything else he wanted that was accompanied by the word “please.” Regina wanted to believe that the deal would amount to nothing, but she, despite her protests, knew better than to assume as much when it came to her mentor.

 

_How did he get the upper hand? **I’m** the one casting this curse here! **He’s** the prisoner, rotting behind bars!_

 

She wished that Rumplestiltskin was guilty of this insult alone, but it was clear once and for all that this just wasn’t the case. This was merely the golden straw that broke the crowned camel’s back. When the demon had first came into her life, he was almost equal parts a fairy godfather and a frightening new threat at the same time. After all, his ways, vicious as they were, were what ultimately led to her mother’s banishment from her realm. How could she not see him to at least some degree as someone to be trusted, especially once he began to teach her magic? However, it had become clearer as the year leading up to her curse had progressed. Regina had begun to see the push and pull that was her mentor’s handiwork as harsher and harsher decisions made with her goal still unresolved, and not from a lack of trying. Like the piece of the tapestry that at last revealed the grand design, this one confrontation finally showed off the imp’s true abilities and intentions. He made her his pawn for reasons unknown, and that fact shook every fiber of Regina’s being to the core with boiling resentment.

 

_Once again, that little Imp has taken influence over me. This was supposed to finally be my moment of triumph, where everyone was to fall prey to me! But still, even as I am about to accomplish my greatest feat, he crawled his way back into power._

_Maybe there’s still a way that I can make him pay…_

 

Regina’s ponderings, while only in their infancy, were put on hold. A door slammed open. A guard, cloaked in dark armor and metals of the earth, as all of her knights were, approached. The Queen greeted him with a steely, unforgiving glare.

 

“My Queen,” he started, his voice stiff with obedience. “We have urgent need for you in the dungeon. In your absence, a man appeared in the throne room right before the throne itself in a cloud of purple smoke. We moved him to the dungeon until you could come and see him, but I wish to note that he was gagged and tied up when he appeared. He attempted to fight us off, but we rendered him unconscious swiftly. He was no match.”

 

In a huff, Regina rushed into the dungeon, only raising a flawless eyebrow upon glancing at the person of focus in the back of the cell.

 

 _Well, at least my guards are honest_.

 

Just as the guard had said, a man was incapacitated and tied up right on top of the bed in his cell. What the guard had neglected to point out, however, was the identity of the prisoner. Had it not been for the unusual mode of entry into the castle, she may have just shrugged him off as an ally of Snow White’s. This man, however, was not just an ordinary peasant.

 

This was Killian Jones.

 

Also known as Captain Hook, he was the infamous one-handed and one-hooked pirate of legends, known for terrorizing the seas on his ship, the Jolly Roger as well as his quest to seize the Dark One’s life.

 

Until this moment, he was also her employee.

 

Yesterday, she had sent the pirate to go kill her mother, and bring back her body. However, if the sight before her was any indication, it looked like the man had failed at his task.

 

_I should have known better than to trust others to take care of my dirty work._

 

Regina walked towards the pirate, a fireball emerging from her right hand, as she glared at her new target.

 

The Evil Queen never did enjoy incinerating inanimate objects. All it made for was a mess and a waste of possessions.

 

Humans, even unconscious ones, on the other hand, made for much more amusing targets.

 

_Oh pirate, you’re about to learn what happens when you let down your queen!_

 

Just as the Regina was about to prepare a roasted pirate, she stopped in her tracks, for something had caught the corner of her eye.

 

A white envelope with a small red heart upon the seal was popping out of the pirate’s jacket pocket, standing out from Hook’s all black clothing. The queen extinguished the fireball, and gently took the letter into her hand. She broke the seal, and opened the envelope.

 

Dearest Regina,

Has your disappointment with you life grown to the point where you truly wish to end my life?

If you do, I suggest trying harder.

I take pride in not making things easy.

May I suggest coming by yourself next time?

Minions can only be counted on for so much.

Anyway, take pride in your power now, but know that we’ll be reunited just as soon as this curse is lifted.

In the meantime, have fun with this little present.

I’m sure you can fit him in there somehow.

Best of luck!

Love,

Mother

 

Regina clenched her free fist, and glowered at the letter before her. Now her mother was mocking her? The queen did her best to hide her rage. Once again, Cora escaped retribution, still one step ahead of Regina’s wrath.

 

_Just like Rumplestiltskin…_

 

Regina’s attention was drawn once again to the unconscious captain before her. She remembered when they first allied against her mother. Regina was so sure he would be capable of a much better job with the promise of revenge on Rumplestiltskin upon her mother’s death, considering his almost obsessive passion when it came to killing the Dark One. She even had him kill his own father as a test of his abilities when dealing with matters of the heart, and he did it!

 

_And look at you now as you lay bound, gagged, and with every bit of dignity taken away from you._

 

What a miserable little worm. If Hook couldn’t take down Cora, what hope did he have in taking down…?

 

Regina froze in her tracks, an evil grin quickly appearing on her face.

 

_Hmm. How funny._

_I come across not just one person that I hate, but two. Two souls who can’t stand one another, and here **I** stand, on the crux of altering their very fates. _

_Perhaps I can get my revenge on this failure of a pirate and Rumplestiltskin all in one fell swoop._

The only question was how. She couldn’t make the imp suffer; that was part of their deal. Comfort. As for Hook, well, a one-sided hatred hardly changed anything for either of them. Hook’s soul was already tortured by hating the Dark One. How could she make it worse?

 

_Hmmm…_

Regina decided to cast the curse so Snow White would suffer. The only thing was, the girl would be deprived of her memory after the fact. However, she would still suffer from the absence of love, but also the feeling that love was supposed to be there.

 

…Could the opposite work too? How would it feel to have love, but to wonder how that love could be, to have something feel weird, almost wrong about it, but not wish to do anything to stop it?

_Why not stick two souls who repel each other at every turn…together?_

_At the very least, it could be worth a laugh._

 

“I promised Rumplestiltskin comfort, and what could be more comforting than the company of a loving husband,” Regina mused, sarcasm practically dripping off her tongue.

 

“Guards,” she cried. Immediately, the two guards in the prisoner’s hallway were at the royal’s side. “You are to ensure that our newest guest stays exactly in place. Make sure that he remains alive and in captivity until the curse is cast, unless you want me to make you the ants beneath my feet in the next world.”

 

_Can I even do that? Who knows!_

 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the soldiers chorused before situating themselves outside the cell doors.

 

“This,” the Queen started, ecstasy appearing on her face, “will be rich.”

 

Regina started for the dungeon’s exit. There was no further need for her presence there. Her shoes began to click against the stone once more as she departed.

 

Then, something stopped her. It wasn’t a guard and surely not her father.

 

What it **was** was a nagging notion. It was the threat of a loose thread, and it all stemmed from the very cell next to her newest captive.

 

It was the cell that contained Belle.

 

Capturing the Dark One’s beloved was a victory that gave Regina much pride. It was a victory of hers that while never expressed to him, would be a cause for despair that would loom over her monstrous mentor for the remainder of his days. She may have lost her love, but up until she spied upon the Dark Castle and seen them together, she assumed he never had any at all. Then the plan struck, and it had all felt right. Even before she fully understood Rumplestiltskin’s dark shadow over her in its entirety, she did have her suspicions that he saw her as a pawn to some degree. Well, if she was to suffer for her stable boy, then he would suffer with the absence of his maid.

 

Regina stared into the door of the young girl’s cell. Belle was asleep on her cot, the sole sheet that rested above her clutched within fists for warmth. The cells were kept cold to torture her victims. The low temperatures would keep those she had deemed worthy of being her prisoners weak but at the same time make sleeping a challenge. She never made the cells too cold to the point where they would kill the captives before she could, but never allowed them to stay warm enough where they could be called comfortable. With time, it drove more than a few of the captives mad from being forcibly kept awake with nothing to occupy the misery and pain that many hours the days supplied. Belle had been resilient. She complained about her conditions, but never brought forward any information on her lover in hopes of bringing her torture to a premature end nor had she gone insane herself.

 

_What should I do with you, child?_

As long as Belle was within the confines of the Enchanted Forest, she’d be included with the curse. Of course, Regina could control the girl’s fate, just as she planned to do with everyone else. She’d come up with a couple of plans for Belle.

 

But something changed, and it made the queen question her tactics. Belle and Rumplestiltskin **had** True Love. It wasn’t strong enough to break the Dark One’s curse, sure, but in a new land, one where her mentor wouldn’t have magic to hold onto like a crutch, their love could **grow** to be so.

 

Regina had read enough magical texts to know the one threat to her victory.

 

_True Love’s Kiss._

She supposed she could keep the two lovers apart, but with both the imp’s new clause and her familiarity with the tendencies of lovers to end up together, Regina began to doubt the practicality of that move. Besides, if Rumple discovered the Queen’s deception, he would give her more trouble than even Snow and Charming ever could. She began thinking up another plan for the princess-turned-maid-turned-prisoner.

 

The thought of simply killing Belle came up, but the notion brought with it too many unpleasant memories of an equally kind heart that not one hour ago sat in her hand, unwilling to be crushed, but done so regardless. Her stomach churned as she relived seeing a familiar set of eyes lose all semblance of life. Even the idea of having a guard perform the action was enough to make her queasy.

 

_No, killing her won’t do._

 

_Perhaps I should just leave her out of the curse altogether and be done with it?_

 

Time was running short. Virtually all of the Enchanted Forest was to be consumed by the Dark Curse.

 

That wasn’t about to stop her though. Regina had just the thing to make that problem but a tiny detour in her grand scheme.

 

Jefferson’s Hat.

 

She got right to work. With a call, another guard was at her side. She led her silently into Belle’s cell and ordered the guard to gently take the prisoner into her arms. She had no doubt that if the maid woke up, she’d be able to render her unconscious once more, but she’d prefer to reserve her magic for the time of the curse and even with the assistance of her guard, Regina preferred to spare herself another hope speech that the prisoner had made a habit of giving every time the queen visited.

 

_I almost pity my guards for having to deal with it on a daily basis._

Regina and her guard with Belle-in-hands made their way back to the queen’s private chambers. The royal opened her armoire, careful not to look towards the left side, where a mirror that told her a very unsatisfying truth once stood, and took out a box. Inside it, there was a lack and orange top hat. Some would call it audacious in its design and impractical to say the least. However, much like herself, beyond appearances was where the true complexities of the garb waited.

 

She cleared off the center of the room and dropped the hat.

 

_Alright, now just as Jefferson did it._

 

Regina gave the top hat a spin, and stepped back. Just as it had on her last trip, a purple swirling vortex emerged from the hat’s surface. Wind blew around the room and darkness took over what used to be eloquent castle walls, and papers flurried through the air like leaves during autumn.

 

“Excellent,” she commented. The queen signaled towards the guard with her head. “Into the hat, with the girl,” Regina ordered. The guard, to her credit only gave off the impression that she was somewhat shaken, nodded.

 

“Y-yes, my Queen,” she spoke, aged and obedient, before jumping into the portal. Regina waited a moment before following.

 

As she landed, Regina decided to use a small bit of magic to ease her fall. The guard, not given the same luxury, seemed to be in a deal of pain, but kept to her task, and Belle, as it was, was still somehow asleep.

 

_I’m beginning to think that the wrong princess got the nickname “Sleeping Beauty.”_

 

The Evil Queen looked around. The duo and Belle found themselves in a circular room with all manner of doors positioned among the edges. Each door had a unique design, associated closely with the foreign worlds they led to. Regina had studied the hat after locking Jefferson in Wonderland, and her independent pursuits alongside the knowledge that her mentor had given her allowed her to conclude that almost every door would lead to a land unaffected by her curse.

 

_Now the question begs: Where should I put her?_

The problem with most of the lands in the hat was that getting back to the Enchanted Forest was all too possible. Knowing Belle, she would be crafty enough to easily find a way to return to their realm, possibly even before the curse was cast, and Regina wasn’t about to have that. No, the clichés of romance were not to win the day, not on her watch, at least.

 

Regina analyzed the doors, taking into account their strengths and weaknesses. She knew one place where the maid was **definitely** not going to end up was in Wonderland. Regina didn’t even spare the Looking Glass more than a passing glance before looking to the next door on the right. All the little brat would need to do was say one unintentionally useful word to her mother and she’d find a way to use it and make her daughter’s life hellish, even more than she already had.

 

As the Evil Queen went over the doors, she became increasingly displeased with her findings. They were all upon the Enchanted Forest’s border, and with a few hours until her curse was to be cast, Regina simply didn’t feel safe with any of the choices, even with a guard left at Belle’s side. The maid put up with Rumplestiltskin somehow for months on end. The queen had a feeling that one guard, especially a recently injured one, wasn’t about to deter her.

 

Finally, though, fate seemed to smile upon Regina.

 

Out of the corner of her eye, ironically enough, directly next to the Looking Glass she earlier denied, the noble saw an emerald green door. The door was built as to look like a curtain, and had two symmetrical handles with the letter “Z” inside an “O.”

 

“Oz,” The queen mused. Regina had never been there before personally, but had had read books about the world. She knew that it was a mystical land that while home to exceptional magical artifacts, was very difficult to get in or out of. There were rumors that one could only get to Oz from other realms by means of cyclones. The odds of that happening within a few hours were negligibly low.

 

“Perfect,” Regina whispered, a positively wicked grin appearing on her face. “Guard,” she called. “Drop her in here.”

 

“Of course,” the guard replied, opening the green door.

 

Beyond the passageway, there was a dark, grassy field in the midst of a forest, with nary a soul in sight. The leaves on the trees blew softly and a light but present green glow was visible across the landscape, the only sign of any intelligent life.

 

Regina gestured for the guard to vacate her arms of the prisoner. The guard gave a curt nod and softly dropped Belle on the ground, careful to keep her in her sleeping state. The queen placed a hand on the guard’s shoulder right before she crossed the border into the world herself, lest her guard be victim to the hat’s rules of passage.

 

_“The same amount of people that go through have to come back. No more, no less. It’s the hat’s rule.”_

 

_Speaking of…_

 

She looked out into the horizon, and upon noticing several distinct bright yellow lights floating a small ways past the clearing, gestured for her guard again.

 

“Grab a single firefly and bring it back through the portal before the girl wakes. That will close the portal and prevent her from coming through,” Regina commanded.

 

“Yes, my Queen,” the guard repeated as she had what Regina predicted must have been at least a hundred times before. Regina, still inside the hat, stood and watched as her orders were acted out. When the mission was successfully accomplished, the guard came back through the door. As soon as she and the firefly passed through the threshold, the door slammed shut, and the queen imagined that it disappeared altogether from the other side. “It is done, your Majesty.”

 

“Very good,” the queen praised as the two left the black and orange vessel.

 

And indeed it was. To add icing to the cake, as soon as Regina and the guard came back into the room, another guard came by to announce the early arrival of the final ingredient for the curse.

 

Regina smiled cruelly and transported herself to where the ingredient was said to be. In under an hour, birthed through the rage of a father lost, she had accomplished quite a lot.

 

Vindication for the sins of her mentor.

 

Retribution for a job poorly done.

 

Catharsis from a world that rarely offered her anything outside of pain.

 

Soon, her ultimate revenge against Snow White would be complete, and despite the forces of the universe fighting her at every turn, she had all the cards in her hand.

 

Payback, as all who ever slighted her were soon to find out, was going to be a bitch.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so I’m not much of a braggart, but this chapter is an AMAZING improvement over the original! It’s amazing what two years of experience can do for a writer.
> 
> Thank you for reading! If you would like to review, I would appreciate it a lot! I love interacting with other fans, so go ahead, I don’t bite…much! XD
> 
> Anyway, have a great day, and I’ll see you in Chapter 2!


	2. Chapter 1: A Cursed Life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Once Upon a Time nor any of the characters, items, or settings.
> 
> A/N: Thank you to everyone who read the last chapter! I’ve been writing like a mad woman! Between editing the older chapters, writing the newest one, planning out the future of the fic, watching (and rewatching) the actual show, and ultimately re-defining what I want to do with this story, Once Upon a Time has all but consumed my soul. Then again, it was kind of doing that before! XD
> 
> Please review and enjoy!!!!

“A Cursed Life?”

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Robert Gold found that his days had two highlights.

The first was waking up.

**Beep.**

**Beep.**

Robert awoke with a contented sigh. His left cheek was covered from the mid-autumn chill by the guard of flesh at its side while his right cheek was protected, albeit less so, by locks that bordered on the line between brown and dirty blonde, but stayed just dark enough that they were classified by everyone as the former. A heartbeat drummed against his ear, and it belonged to someone who Robert could tell was clearly awake, but was just as clearly trying to feign it in some mad attempt to make him forget the very sound pulsing against his opposing ear. Robert was almost insulted to see such a ploy being considered the least bit credible. He recognized the distinction between his bedmate’s every movement at any given time of the day perfectly, whether it be a heartbeat or the way his fingers trailed down his arms.

_Real convincing, Miles._

Robert opened his eyes to an unsurprising sight. He was sprawled on top of his husband Miles’ stomach, his head resting on the other man’s bare, hairy chest, with various other limbs tangled as the only remnants of a satisfying night together. Miles, despite his silent bargaining, was indeed no longer asleep. His eyes were shut, but the more vocal snores that he let out as he rested were no longer audible and now resembled what the raven-haired man merely **believed** his snores to sound like.

**Beep.**

**Beep.**

The urge to quiet the sounds of the beeping alarm clock on his nightstand were only matched by the consuming temptation to not move out of his and Miles’ warm, affection-fueled cocoon.

**Beep.**

**Beep.**

_It’s not going to stop on it’s own, is it?_

_Looks like my decision’s been made for me…_

With a groan, Robert untangled his right arm from his husband’s and hit the alarm clock, ending its cries. However, he barely found himself able to do so, for Miles pulled his arm back the instant their separation became evident.

“Bloody alarm clock,” Miles groaned groggily, his eyes fighting to stay shut. “There’s no way that it’s already seven. I swear, one blink of the eye ago it was still dark.” Robert chuckled. It had become one of his bedmate’s favorite pastimes to deny the absolute truth of the device that slept directly beside him.

“The clock never lies, Miles, and right now, it says it’s seven,” Robert said. He tried to pull himself off of Miles, but his husband was determined to steal more time, the threat of being late for work be damned because he simply refused to be parted from the man in his arms. A hand bunkered down around the small of Robert’s back and the top of his torso was sealed onto Miles’ ribs. “Someone’s feeling in a stubborn mood this morning,” he continued to comment.

“Damn right I am.”

Honestly though, while Robert may have teased about Miles’ reaction, he had no genuine complaints about staying in bed for a few extra minutes. They nights may have been on the verge of getting longer, but that didn’t stop them from feeling as short as they ever were. Compared to facing the too-bright, too-loud, and too-lonely outside world, staying here, in the arms of the one person on this Earth who sincerely and wholeheartedly wanted him was easily the more appealing choice.

So, the couple stayed in bed, keeping each other cozy and happy. Early on, Miles’ stub dropped from Robert’s shoulders, from what Robert assumed was discomfort. Robert’s right hand made its way to the stub, the reminder of the hand that should’ve been there, and simply held it. Stubble tickled his temple, and his forehead stretched; that told him of the smile born of nothing but pure bliss he had earned from his husband for the action. Robert knew the meaning behind the smile, and while it was appreciated, for his purposes, it was completely unnecessary. The hand that once sat upon the stub he held might not have been there, but Robert never saw his husband as any less of a man for it. After all, disabilities had been a common part of their relationship for as long as the two had even known each other.

For Miles, it was his missing hand. For Robert, it was his limp, which bound his movements to the will of a cane.

Miles McAyesty and Robert Gold had first met in the hospital, the juncture where tragedy had dropped them both off. Robert was the sole survivor of a run in with a drunk driver that had deprived him of both a wife and a son. Miles was just a fisherman who, while helping to bring in a net of recently caught seafood, had suffered a bite from a shark hidden in the net’s confines that had cost him his left hand. Fate brought them together as roommates in a hospital, and seemed to leave them in each other’s hands, just as they needed someone to understand their plights the most.

At first, Robert didn’t speak to Miles so much as observe him. The man had a way of making light of his situation to the droves of people that came in and visited him. At first, it made Robert’s eyes roll. The man had lost his hand, and there he was, joking and playing around as if it meant nothing!

It wasn’t until later that night, when visiting hours were over and Miles did start asking questions did Robert understand: The jokes had all been an act, both a coping mechanism and a way to brush off unwanted interlopers in one neat little package. However, whether it be the effect of a performance too well conducted or the simple ineptitude of the hospital’s staff, Miles’ grave seemed to be all but dug, or at least it would have had he not interfered. Referrals for everything from handymen to hotels started flying from Robert’s lips before he even knew it, but even as he was coming to terms with his simple acts of kindness, he wasn’t protesting them.

Miles did the same in kind for him, given the differences of respects for their cases. Most people in Storybrooke, despite their tepid histories with Robert, often described by the townspeople as the uptight landlord with an even tighter grip on his control of the town than his portly wallet, at least had the decency to offer condolences for his losses as they were visiting Miles, but none made a truly sincere effort to assuage his consuming grief. It was pity, and Robert was soon enough more inclined to dismiss his visitors than anything after the condolences, lying about wishing to sleep or get his affairs in order.

Miles, however, was different, and after receiving his much needed help, really talked with Robert, rather than just to him. He would ask about his son and wife, but not just about the accident, but about who they were as people. He asked about how Robert and Lara had fallen in love. He asked about the cartoons Oliver would watch with him. He gave Robert the nickname ‘Rob.’

At first, Robert was convinced it was just pity again. He answered the questions, and while he admitted that the questions succeeded in making him feel better than anyone or anything else had up to that point, he questioned whether Miles’ curiosity stemmed from a place of genuine curiosity, as a settlement of an unspoken debt between them for the information Robert had supplied, or even just as a way of fighting off boredom or further contemplations concerning his new situation. When Miles was discharged from the hospital the following evening, Robert was convinced that that this would be the last he would see of the man.

Surely, someone so popular and beloved by the town wouldn’t waste too much thought on him?

Imagine Robert’s surprise when Miles showed up to visit him the next day, staying from noon until almost ten that night. As soon as he saw Miles there, prepared to give up an entire day of his life just for him, only out of the desire for his company, did Robert discover that Miles was getting him to, while not move past, find hope that he could someday move forward from the incident that had caused him so much pain. Miles urged and convinced Robert to take occupational therapy with him, cheering him on each time Robert learned a new skill, and buying him a drink when he was having too much trouble accomplishing the task of the moment.

It wasn’t a one-way support system either. The two worked together to format Miles’ apartment to accommodate his lost hand, and made sure that everything he would need would be safe and accessible. In addition, Robert made sure that Miles wasn’t over exerting himself. His later husband had a bad habit of feeling insecure about his hand and the abilities that had been hindered with its removal. As much as Miles liked to jest often about his strengths even without the appendage, Robert knew there were just as many occurrences when Miles felt weaker and that he owed it to himself to compensate for the disability. They would appear during the times one would least expect. He would be bringing in groceries or tidying up a room and while the lamentation wouldn’t verbalize itself, it would be plain as day to Robert. Those were the moments that Robert was there for. He, not through pitying dime-a-dozen speeches or fake gestures of compassion, but through examples, a bit of creativity, and the shared knowledge of their similar plights, spent many a night assuring Miles that he had absolutely nothing to prove, and that he was still a whole man in every way, no matter what he did or didn’t do.

They began having dinner together a few times a week, becoming each other’s closest companions in what amounted to no time at all. After a year and a half, feeling that he was finally ready to move on from the loss of his Lara, Robert asked Miles on a date, which was met with far more excitement than Robert had anticipated. As one date turned to many, Miles made a drawer for himself in Robert’s house. Then, on the one-year anniversary of their first date, Miles proposed with a glorious band of gold. Robert’s “yes” had the older man lose any semblance of self-consciousness for the moment and practically jump into Miles’ arms for a kiss. Three months later, they were married, and Robert’s house became their home.

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It took five minutes before Miles finally gave in and opened his eyes, the color of the summertime ocean greeting Robert. Robert never ceased to be amazed at what a gorgeous and stark shade they were.

“Well, if I can say one good thing about getting up early,” Miles started, “it’s that I get to wake up to a very beautiful face.” Miles leaned in to the face in question, planting a soft, yet passion-filled kiss upon Robert’s lips, and he could tell in an instant that it encompassed a thank you for last night. Robert, unwilling to resist Miles’ charm, immediately met his husband’s lips with his own. Miles pressed his tongue to Robert’s lips, and Robert immediately opened his mouth in response. He put his disdain for morning breath to the side and elected to ignore it as his and Miles’ tongue danced.

“Good morning to you too,” Robert said as they finally parted, smiling. Robert caressed the back of Miles’ head. Miles’ smile grew and Robert continued to tickle the short black hairs, getting the grin to a point where Miles was showing off his teeth. Robert loved when he was able to bring that about. Miles, in turn, started swirling around locks of Robert’s hair with his fingers.

Robert leaned in, and Miles, clearly expecting another kiss, closed his eyes in anticipation. But, when Robert got close enough, he turned so that his lips were mere centimeters from Miles’ ear.

“Come on, dearie,” Robert whispered. He tapped his husband’s lap. “We have to get ready.” Robert smirked as his partner reopened his eyes. Albeit rolling his eyes, Miles conceded, and finally removed his arms from Robert’s backside.

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After two quick showers, two quick cups of coffee, and one more kiss that Robert could at least say he made an attempt to keep quick, he and Miles were out the door.

Miles was dropped off first at the docks. There, the S.S. Fairyweather rocked back and forth infinitely alongside the pier, welcoming the staff aboard for another day on the water. Robert reminded Miles to keep his jacket on while he working, and Miles agreed, though his reaction was more reminiscent of a child agreeing with a parent so they could be left alone. Robert rolled his eyes. He’d been on enough boats with Miles, as well as had to care for his sick husband enough times, to know that it could get blisteringly cold out on the sea, especially with winter slowly creeping up on them, getting closer with each passing day. Miles preferred to dress on the lighter side, often complaining about how hot it got in the midst of doing the heavy lifting. Robert didn’t think he was wrong, per se, but that when the temperatures were less than forty degrees, some more caution could stand to be implemented, even if that meant his comfort had to be compromised to a degree.

Robert’s next stop was to his home away from home, his shop. Just on the far side of town, sat Gold’s Pawn Shop. It was the where Robert spent most of his day, surrounded by goods traded in from just about everyone in Storybrooke since it first opened. Antiquities graced every wall and shelf, not to mention a great deal of the available counter space in both the shop itself and the personal office in the back that was hidden by a delicate curtain. Though it was always nice to settle himself on a chair and wait for business to present itself, Robert’s visit here today was a short one. The pawnbroker wasted no time with his typical morning routine, for he was keen on getting his paperwork in order so he could get started on his day.

Today, after all, was the rent day.

Once a month, Robert would go around to all of his properties in Storybrooke he owned and collect the rent. It was a big undertaking, given just how many buildings and plots of land he possessed, but Robert had gotten it down to a science to make sure he could accomplish it in one day, barring a few companies that paid more often.

Why scale down the collection period to only a single day, one may be inclined to ask?

It wasn’t that Robert didn’t enjoy collecting the rent. He definitely did. There was something to enjoy about flaunting his wealth and power in everyone’s face. His outward appearance hardly lent itself to be intimidating to the public, but what his body couldn’t do, his mind, influence, and checkbook could. Robert took pleasure in seeing the hearts of the shopkeepers stop, if only for the barest of seconds as he entered the room. The stoic tone some of Robert’s tenants had as they formally referred to him as “Mr. Gold” created a unique feeling of delight for him.

However, that power came with consequences. The townspeople, over the years, had come to think of Robert as a monster, and rent day did quite a bit to remind him of that. It came out in small ways, of course. No one in their right mind would outright curse out their landlord. However, tight words and whispers behind his back spoke volumes that outright confessions didn’t. It didn’t bother Robert, he argued against himself just as he did many times before. He wasn’t someone who needed excessive amounts of companionship. He didn’t want it anyways, or at least not enough to admit to anyone.

…Maybe he wanted it a little.

…Then again, last time he had had any level of admiration by this town, it been a disaster.

Robert had tried to be kinder in the past with the way he collected his payments, back when he was a greenhorn in the business. He attempted to take a more personal approach to building relationships with those he dealt with professionally and strived to work out reasonable plans for how others would give him his money. His efforts ended with a bottom line very far in the red. He had a large home, but one that’s size swallowed him whole, and the goodwill that he had supposedly earned turned out to be rather conditional when he explained his situation to his tenants, hoping for sympathy and instead receiving empty platitudes and hollow promises for assistance. After that, with morality earning him very little, Robert decided that a change was in order.

A new agreement was issued with very fine print, and Robert’s tenants, too blissful in their ignorance, failed to read the conditions. The payment plans he had worked on for those hard on their luck changed, and left quite a few of the borrowers now scrambling month-by-month to make payments on time, lest they face eviction. Robert himself started dressing sharper and acting more confidently. His tone became harsher when he was acting on business. The result this time was the attention of a woman who would one day be his wife, a child, and a bank account that had more figures than he knew what to do with. Even when he had lost Lara and Oliver, Robert’s sternness played its role in bringing he and Miles closer together. 

Because of his practices, Robert had everything he could ever want.

And all it had cost him was a significant level of his humanity.

Sometimes, despite logic proving his methods of life to be ultimately wiser, Robert wished he could be more like his husband.

It was no secret that Miles was easily the more likeable of the two, and Robert conceded that people had good reasons to believe so. For one thing, Miles didn’t go around once a month collecting their money like clockwork, and with a smile on his face to boot. For another, Robert was not someone who one would consider an understanding man. Should one of Robert’s clients be unable to make a payment on time, his usual response was not so much as to work with them, not anymore in any case, but to give them, what he deemed and described as, the ‘adequate pressure’ needed to assure that the mistake would be rectified. Often, this pressure involved confiscating assets integral to the client’s livelihood until the matter was resolved. While this definitely served the purpose of lowering delinquent payments from his clients as well as setting an example of the price of failure, it had an added bonus of making Robert almost universally loathed throughout Storybrooke.

To conclude, Miles was not as much of a, for lack of a better term, social pariah as Robert. When Robert entered a room, he was always looked upon as a force of intimidation, and whether his tenants responded to his presence with either fear or vitriol, the typical interactions were not very open for building meaningful relationships. They paid, and he left. That was the cycle that the landlord and his business lived and thrived by, though it did little to earn Robert any semblance of a social life outside of his husband.

No, Miles did none of those things. Miles was the charming fisherman. He was the man who always had a story or a joke to tell and could get on anyone’s good side in a matter of minutes. He was the one with a golden smile only matched by his golden tongue. When Miles talked to you, the only reason behind it was simply to see if you were well. Needless to say, when they got married, Miles’ friends made up the vast majority of their guest list for the reception.

Robert knew that Miles’ friends didn’t approve of the younger man’s choice of spouse. While none of them would ever say it outright to either of their faces, especially since Robert owned a good portion of their businesses and homes, it was clear that Robert was far from their first choice of a companion for the man. On its own, this was bad enough, but they showed their displeasure often, granted through more subtle means. Most to all of their interactions with Miles didn’t include Robert, and significantly more often than not, when Miles actually managed to convince Robert to join his friends and he in whatever plans they had, many of them would end up dropping out before the plans could even occur. However, if Miles noticed it, he never seemed to let it get to him.

“More for us,” he would say when his friends would all become occupied with their spouses, children, or jobs as opposed to going out for drinks on a Saturday night.

“Well, at least no one’s going to mind when we make out like teenagers on this couch,” he would jest when Whale and Leroy would complain about head and stomach aches mere hours before a football game would begin.

“Looks like you get a private gun show,” he would boast after “work stuff came up” for five people almost simultaneously on a beach day that was planned far too well in advance for such a drop-out to be deemed appropriate or even possible.

Just as Robert had been was when he was younger, Miles too was understanding, patient, and kind to all those he came across, and just like Robert, he suffered for it. His friends could hardly deal with Robert, even if it meant abandoning Miles.

The difference between Robert and Miles, something that didn’t take long for the former to take away from the latter at all was that these snubs and slight, as numerous as they were, never stopped Miles from continuing to give everyone he knew his best. He wasn’t overly trusting of course, but he helped where he thought he could. Sometimes, despite an unspoken agreement between the two that Miles would generally stay out of Robert’s businesses, his heart led to him asking for Robert to be merciful to his debtors. All too often, Robert, faced with pleas for sympathy from his husband would find that he did, in fact, have the moral capacity to follow the advice given.

_Honestly, I don’t know what I did to deserve him. He’s much too good for me._

Robert sighed, continuing on with his day.

_Well, I have him, deserving of his love or not. Couldn’t hurt to try and be a little better, if only for him._

The first few hours worth of stops on his route were as standard as they ever were. Payments would come in swiftly, and he’d be curtly encouraged to leave, sometimes not even subtly, as soon as the money was in his hands.

The next place Robert’s collection tour led him to was Granny’s. Robert parked his car down the road. There were a lot of properties he owned along Main Street, so he knew he’d be there for some time. The diner had people walking in, groups at a time, as he approached. Robert didn’t need to look at his watch to know that the lunch rush was approaching. He always scheduled his pickup to be around this time. Robert and Granny seldom saw eye-to-eye, and he didn’t pretend there wasn’t some enjoyment to be taken about landing another burden upon the grumpy elderly woman’s shoulders.

Robert examined the current state of the restaurant and its owner through the window. Granny stood in the midst of the mayhem, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a plate with a grilled cheese sandwich in another. After a moment, the chef made eye contact with him, and her eyes rolled.

Ordinarily, Robert would’ve walked into the restaurant without even a second thought.

It would’ve been as easy as the pie he guaranteed someone was ordering at that very moment.

But then Robert started thinking about Miles, and the conclusion he reached earlier.

Perhaps this would be step one towards being a little better.

_Again, I guess it couldn’t hurt._

Just as Granny was about to call her granddaughter for help, he made a stopping motion with his hand, making his intentions known that he would come back later for the acquisition of his money.

Robert wasn’t sure what to expect. Would she give him another eye roll? Would she simply ignore him and go back to her regulars?

As it turned out, his kindness **had** bore some fruits.

Granny responded with a grateful nod and the barest beginnings of a smile before returning to serving her many customers.

It was a small gesture, but it was so rare to see anyone outside of Miles respond to him with anything that resembled kindness. It made the whole endeavor feel…worthwhile.

 _I have to admit_ , _that went better than I thought it would._

The rest of Robert’s afternoon was rather uneventful. He continued on through the town. Riding the high of his experiment at the diner, he did attempt to engage in small talk as his money was prepared from some of the less hostile tenants. To some extent, it worked. A few answered the questions he asked, and a couple of them even went so far as to ask about himself and Miles.

Still, most followed the same procedure: They paid, and he left. Some included their own varieties of snark in an attempt to hide their fear as they handed Robert all manner and forms of money.

The last client of the day was particularly snippy, easily the hardest he had dealt with all day. She was a teenager in charge of giving him a check for the mortgage on her parent’s house, and had less than kind things to say about the struggle her parents faced every month thanks to him.

Under normal circumstances, Robert might have “suddenly needed” to spring a five percent rise in the minimum payments per month for “extra insurance,” as he often put it, or some other consequence of the kind, but he took a deep breath.

_Would Miles do that?_

_No. No he wouldn’t, and you shouldn’t either. She’s just a child worried for her family._

_Oliver would’ve done the same for you, even at her age._

That thought gave Robert cause for a pause. It didn’t happen often, and Robert wished that it would not happen at all, but on a rare occasion, a day would go by where he didn’t think of his son. Today, had it not been for that young girl, would had nearly been one of them.

Robert took his money politely excused himself, mentally muting anything else the girl had to say, and got into his car, simply sitting there as memories of a son who no longer lived flooded his mind.

_Oliver. You would’ve been the finest young man to ever tread the streets of Storybrooke. You were too good for this world._

Halloween was approaching. Years ago, Robert would’ve been helping Oliver pick out a costume, caught between laughing as a little Dracula ran throughout the house and scolding the boy for endangering himself by doing so. He **should’ve** still been doing things with his boy, regardless of the passing years. Or at the very least, even without him around, Oliver should’ve been doing things, happily with groups of friends, or perhaps even a lover at this point.

It wasn’t fair.

_Life just isn’t the same without you, and it never will be again._

Robert stayed in the car. He knew with a phone call, Miles would be by his side, but right now, he just wanted to ride this wave of grief out by itself. It wasn’t that Miles was a bad source of comfort, not at all. Miles had helped pull Robert up from a nearly-consuming depression and allowed for him to move forward. Right now though, Robert just wanted to fall back, and sometimes to do that, he just needed to be alone.

It took time, but after a while, Robert found himself able to put his grief into some degree of rest and make his way back to the house.

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Robert’s second highlight of the day was coming home from work.

The lights were on, signaling that Miles was already inside. He liked walking home from work most days, though with winter approaching, Robert would soon insist upon assisting him with the return trip too, and Miles would begrudgingly agree.

_I swear, I don’t think he cares if he gets pneumonia._

When he opened the door, Miles was right there, waiting with a smile and a kiss, as he always did.

“Welcome home, love,” Miles murmured, loosening his lips from Robert’s before, going in for another. Breathing his husband in as they kissed, Robert was treated to traces of salt water, his husband’s natural musk, and just a hint of freshly poured rum.

“Good welcoming you came up with,” Robert returned.

“As if that’s all I prepared,” Miles said smiling. “I cooked your favorite tonight. Freshly caught and breaded cod.” Robert grinned, and his eyes lit up. Miles, as were all employees of the S.S. Fairyweather, offered some of the fish they caught in addition to their salary, and fortunately for Robert, Miles was one hell of a cook. “But wait! That’s not all,” Miles added. “I also made Spaghetti Alfredo with spinach, tomatoes, roasted red peppers, and asparagus,” he continued, seductively emphasizing every vegetable put into the pasta, much to Robert’s amusement. “Now what do you think,” he smirked.

Robert licked his lips. He was thinking quite a lot of things, both about the delicacies that were to be on his table and about the man who put them there.

_If he keeps this up, I may just have to drag his ass to the bedroom before dinner is served._

Instead of verbalizing his answer, Robert opted to show it by immediately crashing their lips together. He didn’t understand how Miles did it, but he always managed to make Robert feel better during his worst days. Robert wanted to return that. He vowed that he would in many respects, over time, but right now, he could do so in a deep, fervent, and slightly rough kiss.

As they pulled back, Miles smirked at Robert.

“Am I the best husband or what?”

“Let’s just see if your bark is as good as your bite, love,” Robert playfully mocked as he led Miles by the stub into the kitchen.

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Robert swore that Miles should’ve become a chef.

He was honestly surprised he wasn’t the size of a bear, given how often he tore through his meals, tonight’s included.

_One of these days, I’m going to sign him up for a cook-off._

The chef of the hour and Robert had finished Miles’ mouthwatering dinner, and as the last morsels of food on their plates began to digest, the couple turned their attention towards cleaning up the remnants. With not an ounce of salvageable sustenance left to put into Tupperware, Robert began handing Miles dishes, and Miles began to rinse and ready them for a trip into the dishwasher.

“Forgot to mention something earlier,” Miles said as he and Robert exchanged another plate. “Couple of the guys and I might grab a few pints at Granny’s next week for Halloween. Want in?”

_Probably not the best idea, given that your friends hate me._

_That will be a long project, even **if** Granny doesn’t hate me anymore._

_Granny…_

**_Granny’s._ **

_Damn it._

Robert groaned. His last collection of the day had completely skipped his mind. Between thoughts of his son at the end of his workday, and Miles’ gestures as soon as he came home, he had completely forgotten about the rent that as still not in his grasp.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Miles reassured, raising his soapy hand and brace-clad stub as to make a surrendering motion.

“No! It’s not that,” Robert quickly exclaimed, raising a hand of his own. “I forgot to pick up the rent from Granny’s. She was in the middle of her lunch rush when I passed by, so I decided to go later. I forgot to collect it before I came home.” Robert sighed. “I better take care of it now, otherwise I’m going to forget again. I’m sorry about leaving you with the clean-”

“Stop,” Miles interrupted. “No apologies needed, love. Go take care of it.” He began holding Robert’s chin with his hand, the same gentle, understanding smile on his face that could make anyone fall in love with him that he always had.

 _I still can’t believe out of everyone in this world, he chose me_. 

Robert could feel his cheeks grow red, and Miles smirked knowingly. He distracted himself from the growing blush on his face by playfully trying to pull away from Miles. “Go away! You’re getting soap all over me,” he whined. Miles let him go, but not before snatching a tender kiss that made Robert’s heart jump with delight.

“I love you,” Robert breathlessly whispered before they drew away.

“I love you too,” Miles returned. Robert cleaned his face off, and made his way outside the house.

As he got into his car and drove towards Granny’s, his last exchange with Miles still fresh in his mind, Robert couldn’t stop smiling.

The town still couldn’t stand him. Even with a lot of effort on his part, Robert was aware that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. He still had pain, both physical and emotional that he would have to deal with on a regular basis. However, to a large extent, Robert couldn’t find it in himself to hate his circumstances, for he knew that at the end of the day, he had the man of his dreams waiting for him at home, and that was more than enough for him.

Problems aside, his life was truly charmed.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Editing this chapter gave me a lot to think about. The first time that I wrote it, it simply established the kind of lives that Rumple and Killian’s cursed counterpart were living. That’s still true, don’t get me wrong, but what editing this chapter really had me do was to explore the town of Storybrooke and make it real. I liked that. I also received some writing advice that’s really going to shape how I write going forward.
> 
> I’d love to get some feedback, so please give me your thoughts! Otherwise, see you next chapter!


	3. The Horrible Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.
> 
> A/N: Thanks to everyone who read and gave kudos! I’ll confess, this has been the hardest chapter for me to write so far, so I hope that you like the job I did. If you didn’t like this chapter, I’m sorry, and I’d appreciate it if you could give me some constructive criticism so that I can improve next time.
> 
> Enjoy!

**The Horrible Truth**

 

Robert parked his car a few blocks from Granny’s. As he exited the vehicle, Robert saw from across the street what must have been the gaudiest yellow Beetle that he’d ever seen before. He couldn’t help himself, and stopped to look at the car in question, a combination of confusion and disgust plastered on his face.

 

_The tastes of people these days. How abysmal. Who chooses yellow for a car?_

Trying to forget about the ugly vehicle, Robert picked up the pace as he swiftly made his way towards the diner-turned-in in hopes of taking care of business as fast as possible. It was a cold night, an assurance from nature itself that winter was on its way, and Robert’s limp was starting to act up as a result of all the walking he did earlier.

 

_Not to mention, I have a handsome husband to make my way home to. A husband who I **may** just be able to persuade to give me a foot rub once I get back with a little pout. _

Robert grinned, now moving even faster. He couldn’t wait to get home.

Arriving at the door of the inn, Robert was surprised to see a strange young woman there, trying to get Granny’s attention. She had long blonde hair, sported a red leather jacket, and overall just had a very “outsider” feeling about her. Storybrooke was not a town notorious for its tourism, and Robert knew the town well enough to know that she was not a resident. The woman in question took no notice of Robert as he walked through the door, despite the fact that he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

 

“Now,” Granny started, paying no mind to Robert as she excitedly started checking in her new guest. “What’s the name?”

“Swan,” the woman replied. “Emma Swan.”

 

Robert froze in his tracks. He felt paralyzed, as if his mind left his body and was transferred to another world. Suddenly, an explosion of information and memories burst back into his brain.

 

He was the Dark One.

 

He was an all-powerful being, capable of feats of great magic that could be summoned at the tiniest of whims.

 

His was a master of making deals. People would travel between and across the realms in order to have access to his nearly boundless array of powers.

 

He fell in love with a beautiful woman by the name of Belle, who died before their love could truly bloom.

 

He had a son. And his name wasn’t Oliver. It was Baelfire. He travelled to a land without magic on his own. And he might still be alive.

 

He spent at least three centuries tirelessly looking for a way back to that very son.

 

Most importantly, though:

 

The Dark Curse worked!

 

Robert’s vision began to feel hyper clear, as if he just snapped back to reality after living his life in a dream. But, that’s exactly what it was for Robert.

 

_I…I’m not Robert Gold._

_I’m Rumplestiltskin._

 

“Emma…,” Rumple said, still feeling like he had just woken up from a coma. “What-what a lovely name.”

 

“Thanks,” Emma uncomfortably muttered.

 

Granny took out a roll of money, interrupting the two. “It’s all here.”

 

Rumple, not even bothering to count it, took the roll and nodded. “Yes, yes, of course it is dear. Thank you.” Turning to face Emma, he smiled. “Enjoy your stay, Emma.”

 

With that he stalked out of the inn as fast as he could. He saw Emma looking at him from the window as he walked the streets of Storybrooke, along with Granny who was presumably gossiping about him, but he could hardly find it within him to care.

 

He wasn’t Robert Gold.

 

He was Rumplestiltskin.

The first thing that came into Rumple’s mind as he aimlessly walked around the cursed town was how to evaluate this new world that his curse created. Looking back on it now, the land was so much more comfortable than the Enchanted Forest had ever been. Summer days were just minor inconveniences due to the presence of air conditioners and fans, and getting in contact with people could be done in seconds thanks to telephones. Cars made what would have been daylong journeys on foot take mere hours or even minutes.

 

_Not a bad job, Regina. If this is the world we live in, I might enjoy staying here once I get my magic back and find Bae._

 

The next thing he thought about was how to carry on from here. Rumple knew it would take some time until the curse could be broken, and that he had to be patient and smart with how he conducted himself. He needed to be able to regularly interact with the Savior, as to observe her progress on breaking the curse. To do that, he needed to keep his Enchanted Forest identity quiet for the moment. The last thing he wanted was for the Savior to think he was crazy and flee from the scene every time he showed his face. No, a low profile was the best. Not to mention, if Regina, who Rumple presumed was still herself, knew that Rumple was curse-free, she might make his life a touch more challenging. Regina didn’t know he wanted the curse broken, but the less Rumple had to do with her, the better.

 

_Hmm…_

_Interesting that the Savior appeared so soon after Regina’s son went missing._

The boy, Henry, was Regina’s pride and joy. While he didn’t know exactly how he and Emma Swan were related, the mere existence of a relation between the two was undeniable. It couldn’t be a coincidence that a mere day after Henry appeared, the Savior, the first visitor Storybrooke’s had in years, suddenly shows up.

_Henry might end up being very important to her, as well as to Regina. That could also be good to keep in mind._

Before Rumple knew it, he had found himself standing before his car.

 

Feeling like he could use something to unwind after such an Earth-shattering discovery, Rumple drove the old automobilie over to the Rabbit Hole, Storybrooke’s local bar. Thankfully, it wasn’t late enough for the bar to start getting unruly, so Rumple was confident he could enjoy a couple of drinks undisturbed. Upon entering the bar, he took a seat on a stool in the corner of the bar, and ordered a brandy.

 

Despite the reemergence of over three hundred years of knowledge in his mind, Rumple found himself quite calm. He was sure that he would be able to get the Savior to break the curse and finally find his way back to his son. With a clear head and patience, Rumple knew anything could be accomplished.

 

_A bit of harmless manipulation never hurt anyone either._

The next moment, from seemingly out of nowhere, Rumple felt the back of his shoulder tapped, and inwardly grimaced.

 

_So much for being undisturbed._

 

Rumple turned around, surprised to see none other than Ruby Lucas standing before him. The girl was wearing a black leather jacket over a red shirt that was surprisingly tamer than half the clothes she wore while on duty at the diner, as well as her usually vibrant shade of red lipstick.

 

_Who was she again? Ah yes, Little Red, whose womanly beauty and courage are only matched by her were-wolfish ferocity and blood thirst._

 

“Hey, Mr. Gold,” Ruby awkwardly greeted.

 

“Hello, Miss Lucas,” he replied, succeeding in hiding his surprise.

 

An awkward silence ensued between the two. Rumple was about to ask what brought her over to his table when the girl interceded.

 

“I just wanted to say thanks for not bothering Granny during the lunch rush.” Ruby finally blurted out. “She was really stressed out, and she’s been feeling really tired lately, so I think one less problem really helped her out. You could’ve made her day a living hell, but you didn’t so yeah…thanks.”

 

“It was nothing,” Rumple smiled. In truth, Rumple had almost forgotten about his good deed for the Widow Lucas earlier. It wasn’t much effort, and the end result led to Rumple getting back his memories earlier than he might’ve otherwise.

 

_Perhaps I could stand to be a bit more accommodating to the Lucas family._

In addition, Rumple was taken aback by the genuineness in the young Lucas’ voice. Despite her cursed persona acting like an unruly teenager, Ruby showed a lot of the maturity and courage of her true self by coming over to the most terrifying man in town, even if it was just to say thank you.

 

_It looks like the curse is already starting to weaken._

 

“I’ll do my best in the future to avoid the lunch rush then. I hope that your grandmother stays in good health. Now, go off and have fun. No reason a nice young girl like yourself needs to hang around an old man like me on such a lovely evening.”

 

Ruby smiled.

 

“Then in that case, I’m off. Tell Miles I said hi,” the young girl hollered before moving both her body as well as her attention to a man on the opposite side of the bar.

For all of a second, Rumplestiltskin froze.

_My husband. Miles._

_How could I forget about Miles, out of everyone in this town?_

_Who…who is he?_

Rumple thought of his husband, from his bright blue eyes, to his soft black hair, to his impeccable smile to his one… hand…

_Miles is Hook._

As realization finally dawned upon Rumple, he felt his hands trembling. He grabbed his cane so tightly, his knuckles looked like they were bleached white, the other hand bruising his knee from the sheer force of his grip.

 

_I am MARRIED to Captain Hook._

 

Another painful blast of knowledge pulsed through Rumple’s head.

 

He remembered kisses, many of which he initiated, cuddling on cold nights whilst sleeping or watching television, sweet words whispered in each of their ears, dates and dinners shared in comfortable privacy, and some of their more… intimate moments together.

 

Rumple took another, much larger swig of his brandy, and signaled at the bartender for another.

 

_How could this have happened?_

_…_

 

_No wonder she always looked so happy when she saw us together._

_She planned this. That snake slithered her way around my rules._

_How clever she must think she is!_

_Oh, when this is all over, she’ll pay._

Rumple glared into his refilled drink. What was he going to do now? If he were to lay low, he would still have to act normally around Hook as well. And that meant playing “happy couple.”

 

He looked down at his left hand, a golden band on his finger staring back at him.

 

Rumple shuddered. Just the thought of spending any time even pretending to enjoy Hook’s presence was his perfect definition of a fate worse than death. They would have to wake up together, eat meals together, and spend the majority of their free time together, all while he smiled and acted like nothing in the world was wrong while secretly wanting to impale the pirate upon his cane and use it as a golf ball. And then came everything else: holding hands, cuddling, kissing…

 

_No. I can’t do it. It’s too much for me._

Suddenly, the small sliver in his mind that passed for bravery spoke up.

 

_This isn’t for you!_

_It’s for BAE! Did you simply forget the whole reason you’ve come all this way? The reason you spent decades grooming a Queen to cast a curse? And you’re just going to give up so close to your goal?_

_You ARE a coward!_

Rumple sighed. He knew that he couldn’t back out now, not unless he wanted nearly thirty years of his life to be for naught and to risk missing out on finding his son forever. He would have to summon up strength that he never knew he had before and pretend that he could not only stomach Hook’s “affection,” but also pretend to enjoy and return it.

 

_Facing Regina, the Queens of Darkness, the Chernabog, and even Cora have nothing on this._

_But I can do it._

_I **have** to do it._

Rumple looked at his watch, crinkling his face as he remembered its origins.

 

_An anniversary present from “my dearie.”_

He’d been out for about two hours. He knew that if he didn’t go home soon, Hook would start to worry, and his low profile wouldn’t be so “low.” So, he waited about half an hour to allow at least some of the brandy to leave his system before driving home, anything but eager to greet the cursed pirate.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Just as Rumple feared, as he opened the door, there was a smile and a kiss waiting for him.

 

Unable to think of an excuse out of it, Rumple could only brace himself as Hooks’ lips pressed against his.

 

_No. He’s not Hook. He’s Miles until this horrible, dreadful, sickening curse is broken._

 

Rumple believed that the only thing stopping him from vomiting out of disgust was the knowledge that he had been doing this every day for nearly thirty years now.

 

_Remind me to get a date with a bottle of mouthwash after this._

After mercifully ending the kiss, “Miles” asked, “you get everything sorted out at Granny’s? You were out for quite some time. It’s nearly eleven. And… were you drinking?” Miles sniffed his nose at Rumple’s shoulder. “You smell like the Rabbit Hole just threw up on you.”

 

“I… was just in the mood for a brandy while I was out,” Rumple stiffly replied. “And yes, my business at Granny’s was settled. I’m sorry I was out for so long. Turns out, Storybrooke has a new visitor.”

 

Rumple gulped, fear only leaving as an idea entered his head.

 

_Maybe, just maybe, I can end this nightmare before it truly begins._

“Her name is Emma Swan,” he stated, more confidence in his voice.

 

Without hesitation, Miles smiled.

 

“That’s nice,” he said, his eyes still lovingly focused on his husband. “You’ll have to introduce me to her sometime.”

 

_Or not. Damn it._

“I think it’s time we get some sleep,” Miles said, slipping his right arm across Rumple’s upper back, pulling him in closer, oblivious to the wince that left the latter’s mouth, concealed only by a smile as fragile as glass, as he did so. “Tomorrow’s a new day, and I’ve a feeling we should be ready for anything.” With that, he started leading them up the stairs towards their bedroom.

 

Rumple, a man who believed in very few deities higher than him, found himself praying to whatever force that could possibly be listening that the curse was broken as quickly as possible, dreading whatever time he would have to spend with his “husband.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please review or give kudos, and have a fantastic day/night!


	4. Chapter 3.5: Day One of a Nightmarish Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time nor any of the show’s characters.
> 
> A/N: Yes. You read that correctly. 
> 
> 3.5
> 
> Aren’t I full of surprises?
> 
> Ok, real talk though. I am not satisfied with how I developed the former half of the story thus far (By that, I mean Chapters 1-8). Over cockiness on my part about my knowledge of the series kept a couple of things from my attention because I did very few re-watches and while I think I set the mood for Rumple’s disdain for his and Miles’ situation at the very beginning of when Rumple’s memories came back well enough, I feel like I could’ve done more. This chapter seeks to correct those mistakes. It’s a fun, short, but useful chapter, and will hopefully hold you over until Chapter 19 is ready to rock!
> 
> That being said, please enjoy!

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

**Day One of a Nightmarish Forever**

 

The best Rumple could say waking up from his first night curse free was that it wasn’t the worst sleep of his entire life.

 

It did little to change anything, seeing as he was roughly two centuries old, but at least he had that going for him.

 

Hook, or rather Miles, a distinction Rumple reminded himself of for the thirteenth time since last night, had held him in place the entire night directly to his side. His face was directly parallel to Miles’ torso, and his musk permeated every bit of air Rumple inhaled. Bits of stubble could be faintly felt from atop his scalp. It was a living hell but more so than that, it was regular part of his and Robert’s nightly routine, and as Rumple reminded himself, if Robert wouldn’t complain about it, neither could he.

 

Rumple had woken up several times the previous night, praying every time just before he opened his eyes that being settled next to his archenemy, situated in for what for their cursed selves had become a comfortable bliss since the curse had first reared its ugly head into existence, would turn out to be a dream. However, even before his sight could confirm that it was not, his other senses already knew that to be a fact.

 

The alarm clock didn’t go off this morning. Miles had recently been asked to take more vacation days and decided that getting a head start on his weekend was as good as any place to start. Given that and the fact that Robert normally went into the shop late following a day of rent collection, Miles elected to keep the alarm clock off so they could sleep in. Rumple peeked over and read the digital device that sat upon his husband’s nightstand. It was nine. The last time that he had woken up, it had been seven thirty. As Miles wrapped his arms around him tighter, Rumple had to wonder just how much longer he’d be subject to this closeness, at least for today.

 

An increased amount of shifting answered the unspoken question. The arms that surrounded Rumple’s backside moved so that they were against their owner’s sides, though much to Rumple’s disdain, still touching him.

 

“Morning, Rob.” Rumple looked up. Miles was staring straight at him.

 

_Time to play your part._

“Morning, Miles.” Miles hand rose to cradle his cheek. Rumple pushed himself and his pillow up on the bed so that they were on eye level.

 

_At last, freedom from that pirate’s chest._

 

How he’d long for that prison in just a mere moment.

 

“God, I love having Monday off,” Miles said. The scent of musk was gone, but Rumple found himself wishing for it in comparison to what came next. A replacement had come in, and it was one that had Rumple wondering if indeed he’d be able to survive the remainder of the curse in this state.

 

Morning breath.

 

In all the hullabaloo of getting his memories back, scheming, and coming to realize his unfortunate role in Regina’s world, Rumple let a few…details of what his new life would entail slip, whether it be because doing so was an easier alternative to thinking about them or because of a simple overload of information that night. Rumple leaned towards the latter. Right now, though, whatever the reason, he was left completely unprepared for the horrible stench that left his husband’s mouth with his words.

 

Rumple groaned. He had to.

 

Miles quirked his brow, and worry immediately struck Rumple.

 

_No. There’s no way I can fail not one day free of the curse._

“You’re gonna bitch about morning breath? I just got up,” Miles whined.

 

_Thank Merlin. Still safe. Now, get into character._

_Fortunately, this part will be easy._

“Yes, I will. Your breath stinks.” Rumple was careful not to put too much resentment into his words. He remembered how his cursed counterpart acted when a similar scenario approached. It had to come off as annoyed, though not cruel nor a reason for alarm.

 

Miles rolled his eyes.

 

“Your breath’s no bouquet this time of day either,” he grumbled as he got out of bed and walked forward towards their shared bathroom.

 

_Oh Merlin. I just realized I’m going to have to share a bathroom with this man. Is a bedroom not punishment enough?_

The closing of the bathroom door and the activation of the sink brought something Rumple desperately craved.

 

Solitude.

 

He took a deep breath.

 

Dear **God** , he finally had solitude! For whatever time he had until his bedmate returned, Rumple at last had some semblance of privacy.

 

Rumple softly rose from the bed and stretched.

 

_How did Robert stand to do this? It’s like sleeping in a coffin, the way he cuddles me!_

It sent a shiver up Rumple’s spine, recalling the events of the previous evening. What was actually around ten hours felt like an eternity. For God’s sake, he had just **cuddled** with **Captain Hook** for an entire night!

 

_Miles._

The idea of his future, enduring this sham of a romance for Merlin knew how long, ignited Rumple’s temper like a furnace filled with kerosene. He punched his pillow. What else could he do? Throwing things would be noticed and questioned swiftly. Screaming, even into his sheets would no doubt be heard by Miles on the other side of the bathroom door. A pillow would simply have to suffice for the time being.

 

_How am I going to live like this?_

The muffled sound of a toilet flushing brought Rumple out of his thoughts.

 

_Apparently, that’s a question meant to be answered in the present._

 

Rumple got back into bed. The blankets felt disgustingly warm against his bare arms.

 

The door opened and Miles sauntered back into the room. Rumple, still underneath the covers, watched him slowly make his way towards the bed.

 

When Miles arrived, he gently took hold on Rumple chin and shifted so that they were face-to-face.

 

Then he did the unthinkable.

 

Miles released a puff of his breath right onto his partner’s nose. The scent of peppermint now pervaded the air.

 

_Never before has mint smelt so disgusting._

“Better now,” Miles teased right before smirking.

 

Rumple forced a smile.

 

_Robert would play it off lightheartedly._

_Fuck you, Robert._

 

“Much,” he replied.

 

Just then, without warning, Miles kissed him. Rumple froze up. A kiss should’ve been, and ultimately was, expected. They were, after all, married and it wasn’t like this one was the first. He already endured one the previous evening. However, Rumple had hoped that he could get by just a little longer without one or even be given some kind of a warning; it was a naïve hope for sure, but that didn’t stop Rumple from wishing it so. Robert and Miles constantly came at each other with surprise kisses. This kiss was a simple one, bereft of all manner of tongue and short in length. Rumple would later realize that he should be grateful for kisses so short. For now though, he was just nauseous.

 

Rumple began to get up.

 

“Be right back,” he excused himself, walking to the bathroom. Miles grinned at him as he left before lying back in the bed.

 

The door was promptly shut.

 

Rumple began shaking. It hadn’t even been ten minutes into his first full day curse free and he had already used two breaks, something he knew would be in short supply as is.

 

He took his toothbrush out of its holder and readied a cap of mouthwash for later, just as he’d promised himself when he first arrived home the previous night.

 

_At the very least, this will be satisfying._

Rumple looked in the mirror ready to put the now toothpaste-topped toothbrush into his mouth when he paused. In his reflection, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something glimmer.

 

Something…in his mouth.

 

He put a finger to his upper lip and pulled until the top of his jaw was visible.

 

Indeed, something was shimmering.

 

_A golden tooth?!_

He had nearly forgotten about the unsightly addition to his mouth.

 

_Mr. Gold with his golden tooth. Very funny, Regina. You must’ve thought you were clever there._

Rumple turned on the faucet and put the brush to work. It had been too quiet in the bathroom since he entered. There was no need to cause Miles to be suspicious of anything. While he was in the bathroom, he also had his long-overdue date with the mouthwash and a trip to the toilet. Rumple reminded himself to be cautious about his uses of bathroom breaks, both to maximize them and at the same time, make nothing seem out of the ordinary. Until the curse broke, should Robert and Miles’ normal day-to-day lives be any indication, they would be some of his few moments of privacy when he was home.

 

When Rumple was finished in the bathroom, a liberal amount of his dental hygiene products used, he stepped out. Waiting for him in bed was Miles, laid out with his arms open wide, ready to ensnare him into another fit of physical contact. Rumple felt himself shake as he moved to the other side of the room, but did his best to mask it. With his cane, he eased his way over. Like a Venus Fly Trap, as soon as Rumple was in the fold of Miles’ right arm, he was fastened to his side once more. A kiss was pressed to his temple.

 

“Love, is everything alright,” Miles asked. Rumple eyed him, only to see concerned features staring back, a furrowed brow, a strong gaze, and a deep frown. Of course, Miles had noticed the shaking Rumple did as he came to bed. Robert’s memories told him all he needed to know about lying to Miles, but Rumple wasn’t Robert. He’d have better luck.  


“Of course. Why would you ask?” Rumple attempted to assuage the fears with a convincing grin. Miles looked at him flatly, as if the answer was obvious. The piercing blue eyes fell, as to gaze at something underneath them both.

 

“Your foot hurts. I can tell.”

 

_Looks like the pirate’s a little too smart for that. Color me surprised._

_Very well. Time to play along with my dealt hand._

 

“Is it that noticeable?” Rumple smirked as if he was a child caught with his hand in a cookie jar. His husband seemed to buy it.

 

Miles nodded. “Yes, Rob. Yes, it is. You must’ve tuckered yourself out collecting that rent all day. Happens every month. I wish you’d divide it up a bit more.”

 

“Business should wait for no man.”

 

“You’re such a capitalist,” Miles went on to remark. “In any event, how about we stay in today and rest that foot of yours up,” he suggested, his hand and stub slowly caressing Rumple’s body. “We can order pizza, watch some TV,” Miles continued. “Hard to resist, I know.”

 

Rumple disagreed greatly with that sentiment. His throat ran dry just thinking about the possibility of spending another minute in such close quarters with his nemesis, let alone the rest of the day. He berated himself for not putting on a better performance, not doing more to mask his weakness. He should have known better. Miles **always** put up a fight when Robert wanted to work after a long day on his feet, and more often than not, he won them too. Now, though, it looked like that, which he could not have wished less for, was to be his fate for the remainder of the day.

 

“M-Miles, I-“

 

His feeble attempt at an argument was interrupted before it could even come into the light.

 

“I’m sure anything you have to do with the rent **or** the shop can be put off until tomorrow.” Miles’ eyes softened. “Please, Rob.”

 

_Fuck. **Fuck.**_

****

Rumple took a deep breath, readying his performance, figuring out exactly what Robert would say in his shoes.

 

_Say it gently. Do it for Bae._

_…I’d rather just bash this cretin over the head._

 

“Very well,” he acquiesced, containing the venom in his voice.

 

“Excellent,” Miles exclaimed. A kiss was pressed to Rumple’s cheek.

 

_At least it can’t get worse._

 

Rumple looked at Miles again. There was something in his eyes. It resembled hunger.

 

“Well,” Miles said, his thumb now massaging Rumple’s back. “Now that I have you all to myself, and seeing how both of our mouths are clear of the scourge of plaque, how about we start this morning right?” Miles licked his lips.

 

The urge to vomit returned, and it returned fiercely. Was Miles insinuating…what Rumple feared he was insinuating? It wasn’t sex. That much he knew to be true, for the couple never went at each other in that way when Robert’s injuries were acting up. No, it was not sex, but what Miles was suggesting and Rumple believed it to be wasn’t very far off. Miles’ hand reached for his forearm and delicately pulled it so that their bodies grew closer together. Miles’ lip started to form the most basic of puckers. Yes, it appeared to be so.

 

Miles desired him to participate in what was most commonly referred to, mostly by adolescents, as “making out.”

 

Rumple wanted to push him away, or come at him with a knife from the kitchen. Even just whacking his head with his cane would be enough! However, what he wanted and what Miles knew Robert Gold would want were two completely different things. Robert wouldn’t hesitate to take Miles up on his kisses if offered the chance. Hell, there’s a chance he’d initiate them himself! All it would usually take was the right touch or a certain gleam in his husband’s eyes, and Rumple’s cursed counterpart would gladly take advantage of the intimate moment.

 

Now, unfortunately, stood an intimate moment.

 

Rumple closed his eyes, leaned in, and prepared for the worst.

 

The first thing he was aware of, before even the kiss itself, was the presence of scratchy stubble against his jaw. Rumple squirmed, displeased. It was prickly, just as much as the other kisses he and Miles had shared since he came home last night.

 

But they were mercifully short.

 

This wouldn’t be.

 

He then registered the kiss. Miles came on him, hard and fierce upon first contact, but quickly softening up with light but lingering thrusting puckers. Rumple did his best to mimic the movements. He didn’t want to put any more thought into kissing the very vain of his existence than he already had to. Before ten seconds passed, seconds Rumple counted just to give his mind something else to focus on, Miles had introduced his tongue into the equation. Unfortunate timing allowed it to slip into its desired destination without warning.

 

_So it appears that it’s my mouth that’s hosting this travesty._

 

This went on for more than a few minutes before the first pause for air came about, every passing moment worse for Rumple than the one that came before the entirety of the time. The break didn’t last long, and a second round was underway soon enough. This time, Rumple arrived at the conclusion that he needn’t punish his own mouth, rather than just his lips and tongue, and took the initiative so that events would remain closer to Miles. This remained the case until Miles had finally decided that he was satisfied. Rumple refused to pretend that there was anything resembling a longing for their activities to continue. The best front that he could put up was a mutual satisfaction for what had transpired, a bold faced lie if there ever was one.

 

Miles curled his arms around Rumple, his stub in Rumple’s hair and his hand curled around Rumple’s waist. While not as close nor nearly as tight as Miles had held them together while they slept last night, the lack of personal space was far too much for Rumple to consider comfortable.

 

“I love you, Rob.”

 

_And I will **never** love you._

 

"I love you, too," Rumple returned. He grit his teeth as soon as he finished saying it, hidden behind a perfectly serene smile that gave nothing away. He'd known the pain of words, but never like this. Miles smiled against his shoulder, ignorant as to the true feelings of the man who just falsely professed affection. A grip tightened around Rumple’s waist.

 

Of course.

 

Miles was hugging him.

 

“Want to go downstairs and watch TV?” The words poured out from Rumple’s lips before he could catch them, not that he wanted to.

 

“Yeah,” Miles answered. “I wanted to get some coffee anyways.”

 

Rumple wasted no time getting up from the bed. “Fantastic,” he said. “I’ll get a pot ready. See you downstairs.” Without a word further, Rumple headed down the stairs, at first a normal pace, but rushed the moment he deemed himself far enough out of Miles’ sight and earshot. He immediately started on the coffee, and swirled a sip of water around in his mouth to wash any and all essences of Miles out of his body as he waited for the raven-colored liquid to fill the pot.

 

A thumping of footsteps began to echo from outside the kitchen. Rumple began reeling, desperate for more time alone.

 

“Turn on the TV, Miles. I’ll bring the coffee out when it’s ready!” Rumple called out, thinking quickly.

 

“Okay!” Miles responded. Within seconds, Rumple heard the television turn on, the sound of news anchors speaking from the adjacent den. Despite pleas of every kind, it wasn’t long before the coffee pot had filled itself to the brim. As Rumple prepared the beverages, taking care to go as slowly as possible, he did what he could to mentally prepare himself for the next encounter with his husband.

 

Miles greeted Rumple with as he came into the living room. He was laying against the armrest of the navy blue sofa that made up the centerpiece in the room. He tapped the spot next to him.

 

Rumple grimaced. Had he come earlier, he would’ve been able to sit in his armchair, which sat off to the side, and granted himself a modicum of personal space. As it stood now though, his prior actions had nullified that wish. He bit the tongue that wished to give voice to a whine that sat on its tip, and went over to the couch, dropping off the coffee cups on the table in front just before sitting down. An arm surrounded Rumple as soon as he was situated, and within seconds, the side of Rumple’s head was pushed up against Miles’ chest. He looked to the television for a distraction from the compromising position.

 

“Thanks for the weather, Jim,” one of the anchors said. “For those of you who missed them, here are the highlights of this week’s local news stories.”

 

“First, Mayor Regina Mills’ son Henry, who disappeared earlier in the week, was found safe and sound on Wednesday evening,” the other anchor narrated. “As we reported on Wednesday, Henry disappeared earlier that morning, lost without a trace. That night however, a young woman, driving a yellow Volkswagen, brought Henry to his front door and back into his mother’s custody. Sheriff Graham reports that according to Henry, he was not abducted, but rather fled to her, citing the woman, Emma Swan, as his birth mother. Because of that, the woman would not be charged for anything involving the young boy’s disappearance. However, later that evening, Ms. Swan, presumably in a drunken state, was found near the border of town, her car firmly against the Storybrooke sign. Sheriff Graham, upon hearing of the accident, took Ms. Swan into police custody where she was eventually let off with a warning later the next day. When asked for more information about either incident, Mayor Mills declined to comment. Still, we’re all relieved that she and Henry were reunited.”

 

Rumple sneered at the television as he began sipping at his coffee.

 

_Speak for yourself._

_Still, it appears that my assertion about Miss Swan and Henry Mills was correct. Always knew something about that boy was a little off._

_One mother is the Savior, and the other is The Evil Queen. This should make for some interesting drama._

“I’m glad Henry’s back,” Miles said. “I called Regina when he first disappeared, and she was so worried. I couldn’t even imagine what that must have felt like.”

 

_No surprises there. You’d know nothing of missing children._

“It’s the worst pain in the world,” Rumple muttered. It hardly registered to him that it was the first genuine thing he’d said since his memories were restored.

 

“You could hear it in her voice. She sounded like she couldn’t even think straight. Graham later told me that she was so icy while working with the police. She was running around asking questions and giving theories and glaring daggers at anyone who looked like they weren’t working.”

 

_Daggers…_

_ … **Where’s the dagger?** _

Rumple didn’t like that he didn’t know where his dagger was. Surely, it would’ve come across with the curse too. Not everything did, he suspected, but items of great importance definitely would have made the jump. As his memories returned, he recognized that the ring that Mary Margaret had worn was secretly Charming’s ring all along, known to none but himself and presumably Regina.

 

He began to push himself to remember crevices that he passed by. First, Regina’s mansion. After all, if Regina could help it, she would of course take stock of his most valued treasure. He had been to her house more than a handful of times, but as far as he recalled, the dagger was not there. Next, he thought of his home, the abode he currently occupied. He looked around the living room. Nothing rung any bells. Nor did anywhere in the house that he could remember.

 

Rumple was starting to grow frustrated.

 

_At this rate, I’ll never find it._

 

Suddenly, another memory resurfaced, and then a sigh of relief came out.

 

_It’s in the shop._

He remembered where it sat, a diamond in a rough of rubble. Robert seldom paid it more than a passing glance as it waited in a glass display for a patron to take it home. Rumple thanked his lucky stars that it had managed to stay out of sight for all these years. He shuddered at the thought of Regina getting her hands on it, or anyone for that matter.

 

An especially icy chill ran down his spine at the thought of Miles holding onto the dagger, carelessly fiddling with the trinket until the curse broke, and upon that time knowing exactly how to best utilize its skill.

 

Rumple took a deep breath.

 

_The dagger is okay. It’s in my possession, and that’s all that matters._

 

It was also powerless against him in any case, at least as long as there was no magic here. That said, the breakdown of the curse could happen at a moment’s notice and Rumple knew that he needed to be ready as soon as possible for its end.

 

At some point, Regina would realize he was free of the curse’s grasp. He’d starve her off for as long as he could, but given the reveal of her trick, Rumple knew Regina was no longer to be underestimated. Because of that, he knew he’d need to get his dagger somewhere safe. It would need to be somewhere neither she nor anyone else for that matter would ever look. His shop wouldn’t be safe forever. Not even his very own castle was safe from the Evil Queen’s mirror-led gaze.

 

That begged the question, though: where **would** he store that which was easily his most prized possession in this or any world?

 

His house was automatically disqualified, not with Hoo- **Miles** living here beside him.

 

_I have to remember his name. I can’t imagine what would happen if I slipped up._

_The last thing I need is a rumor about an affair going right as I introduce myself to Miss Swan._

 

The woods, he eventually decided. It was the dagger’s, and consequently, his best chance. The woods left no records that he couldn’t clean, and no coordinates anyone but him could find.

 

A finger delicately caressed the base of Rumple’s stomach, and a groan escaped before Rumple could silence it.

 

“You’re so ticklish,” Miles teased. Another kiss was placed onto his head, this time guarded by Rumple’s long brown hair. Rumple swallowed his groan with a hum. Miles then decided that it would be funny to do it faster, and multiple times on top of it.

 

Rumple looked at his coffee cup. Mercifully, it was almost empty.

 

“Miles, would you mind refilling my cup?”

 

“Sure thing, Rob.” Miles got up, taking both his and Rumple’s cups into the kitchen for further preparations, but now before planting a firm kiss against Rumple’s cheek.

 

As he watched Miles go off into the kitchen, Rumple pondered his situation. With Miles taking a long weekend, it would probably take until Monday to get back to work without having to drag his husband along. At the moment, with the immediate effects of the Savior’s presence in Storybrooke still uncertain, he would accept no alternative.

 

He sighed to himself.

 

_Two and a half days…_

 

It would be another two and a half days of this before he would be able to go back to his shop without garnering suspicion.

 

It would be another two and a half days of this before he could be alone again for more than just a bathroom break without causing a dozen or more alarms to go off for Miles.

 

As the reality of his situation hit him like a ton of bricks, only one thing ran through Rumple’s mind.

 

_If this isn’t even one full day of the curse, then it may as well be forever until it breaks._

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> Leave a review? Pretty please with sugar on top? I’ll give you a sneak peek of the next chapter if you do! 
> 
> Thank you! I hope you all have a good day!


	5. Life with Miles Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.
> 
> A/N: Hi everyone! Thanks for all the viewership on the last chapter! I have a fun chapter ahead, and be sure to read the note at the bottom of the page because I have a special announcement! I’m sorry that it took so long for the update. I was going to make one super long chapter, but decided to cut it up so that I could get a chapter out to you faster. On the plus side, Part 2 is much further along, and, thus, will get out faster as a result! I won’t make definitive update days, but please know that I’m working on this fic every day, enlisting friends help in fact checking and quality control, editing the material constantly, and re-watching the episodes so that I can deliver the best quality fanfiction to my audience possible. It may be a crack pairing, but it’s kind of fun taking it seriously too.
> 
> Enjoy!

Rumplestiltskin found that his day had two highlights.

 

The first was finally getting out of bed.

 

Every morning, for the past two weeks, Miles would cuddle with Rumple in bed for at least five minutes after their alarm clock went off, despite the older man’s best efforts to get out of the unwanted embrace and on with his day. On the more merciful mornings, they would just lay down with a kiss at the beginning and end of their post-alarm rest. Other days…Miles would initiate make out sessions. Passionate make out sessions that required Rumple to give far more of his mouth to the cursed pirate than he ever wanted to. To make matters worse, the facial hair that covered most of Miles’ face deprived Rumple of the benefit of even **pretending** he was kissing someone else.

 

Needless to say, mouthwash became Rumple’s best friend very quickly.

 

Rumple was relieved when his morning torment was finally over. The rest of their daybreak routine usually passed by painlessly enough, other than the odd kisses that needed to be returned as he dropped Miles off at the docks. Rarely, Rumple got the unfortunate view of his husband’s birthday suit as he exited the shower. In those cases, Rumple’s eyes darted away from the sight faster than a bull from a whip.

 

The second highlight was finally getting to work.

 

The pawnshop was more often than not empty, and it worked in Rumple’s favor. He had freedom here that was otherwise inaccessible. This was his sanctum: The one place where Rumplestiltskin could run free, and leave his disgusting alias in the dust. Rumple could sneer about his mornings and how repulsive the cursed captain’s lips were as much as he’d like. He could moan and mutter about his current predicament until his voice gave out. Here, and only here could he actually think and strategize about how to break the curse faster more or less in peace.

 

He had yet to spend all that much time with the Savior, Emma Swan as she went by in this world. He heard about how she and “dear old” Madame Mayor butted heads over the well being of Henry, and how recently, her princely father woke from his coma due to the unwitting assistance of the sweet, yet timid as a baby deer Mary Margaret. Rumple knew of Miss Swan’s feisty attitude, superpower, and preference for leather jackets and yellow cars. He knew she felt like an outsider, who looked at affection and trust as if they were time bombs, set to go off any second and should be treated with disdain and hesitation. He watched her go about her business from afar, but had yet to take any significant actions towards making a real impression in Emma’s life.

 

_I just need an opening. An opportunity._

For now, Rumple shrugged it off. There was time, and a chance would show itself soon enough. All he needed was patience, and if his conduction towards his pirate “lover” was any indication, he had plenty to spare.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

As Rumple got started opening up the shop, he saw Regina pass by.

 

One pleasure that Rumple allowed himself to take, despite his desire for a low profile, was teasing Regina about their past. He would give her just the slightest clue that he might know more than he let on, but whenever Regina would question him further, Rumple would simply play dumb. Just the other day for example, he used his “please” clause in order to get her to stop a conversation concerning Emma, with a “gratuitous” wink for good measure. Her confusion and frustration became his favorite pick-me-up whenever his “marriage” became too much to stomach.

 

Regina paused by the windows outside the shop, and she and Rumple made eye contact for the barest of seconds. Regina glared at the shopkeeper, only to get an amused, yet “confused” smile in return, as well as a wave.

 

_I guess someone’s still not over my little “slip” a few days ago._

 

Exasperated, Regina broke the eye contact, and shuffled past the rest of the store in a huff.

 

_Serves you right._

There were two things that excited Rumple about the cure breaking, apart from finally finding Baelfire again. The first was the end of his sham of a marriage to Hook. Oh, how he longed for the day he could wake up without a mouthful of morning breath or arms covered in unwanted caresses and embraces there to greet him. How he ached for the moment where the gold of a wedding band would no longer stain his finger.

 

The other was his revenge on Regina.

 

_Maybe I’ll send a Wraith after her, or trap her by her feet in the middle of the town square and let the townsfolk have their way with her as I watch with some popcorn from the clock tower._

 

Rumple giggled. He dropped his cane against his counter and fiddled with his fingers fancifully. Every time he thought about even one method of vengeance for the Evil Queen, or Hook for that matter, he would get as giddy and energetic as his Enchanted Forest counterpart had been. He was only pulled from his fantasy by a sharp jab of pain in his left foot. Rumple cried out from the piercing ache, and quickly grabbed his cane.

 

He sighed. It turned out there was a third thing that Rumple looked forward to after the curse ended.

 

When hiss memories came back, Rumple instantly felt the absence of magic throughout his body, and with good reason. He had depended on magic and its conveniences for over three hundred years, and even with the knowledge that he’d survived nearly thirty years without his powers, he felt incomplete without them. The shop as well as his house felt so much harder to traverse without them, as if metal braces now bound his arms and legs every time he so much as stood up. There were means to get his magic back, sure. The first thing he did when he got back to his shop the morning after the curse left his spirit was sift through every book in his shop to find those means. However, they either required magical artifacts or involved feats of great physical strength, neither of which he possessed. The few magical items Rumple had could only give him weak, short-term, or simply irrelevant magic. As for his physical strength, well, the previous moment was a shining example of just how laughable that prospect was. Storybrooke’s quaint residents may still have seen Rumple as the intimidating owner of the town, but Rumple didn’t exactly share the sentiment. He couldn’t wait for the moment that he could once again feel magic surge through his form like electricity through wires, but until then, he was stranded in this feeble body, his very existence feeling only halfway real until he could be reunited with the power that made him the most feared creature in any realm.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

A while later, Rumple looked up at a clock in his back room, the chime of a grandfather clock grabbing his attention to announce the time. It was half past one. Rumple had been working for hours, mostly cleaning items and display cases as well as taking inventory, despite how unneeded it was. No one had entered the shop all day, and Rumple reveled in the peace and quiet. He had just finished dusting off an old helmet with a dragon insignia on it when he heard the bell by the shop’s front door go off. Rumple made his way to the counter to greet the possible patron, only for his eyes to widen like flowers in spring at the sight before him: Miles, standing in front of the door with a positively seductive look on his face.

 

Occasionally, Miles’ lunch hour would be extended due to problems with the fishing boat, delays for the new shipment of bait, or any other number of things. It was on these days that Miles decided to make the pilgrimage to the other side of town and surprise his husband at work. It happened once or twice a month, and it used to be a fun surprise that would relieve Rumple from the monotony of the day. This was the first time that it had happened since Rumple’s memories were returned, and now, the very idea that the few precious hours of the day that he was free from his husband would be interrupted by the very man he strived to avoid made Rumple cringe.

 

_So much for peace and quiet._

Quickly, he put up a smile.

“I presume you got some extra time off work,” Rumple said.

 

Swaggering towards the front counter, Miles smirked and answered. “You presumed correctly.” When he got up to the counter, his hand reached out and grabbed Rumple’s wrist, pulling the older man closer until their faces were centimeters apart. “Here’s your prize,” he breathed, closing the distance between their lips.

 

Rumple’s cheeks burned red with fervent embarrassment. It was bad enough when Miles kissed him in the privacy of their own home, but they were in his **shop** , a public place no less. Yes, everyone in Storybrooke knew they were married, and it was probably better if more people saw them together for the purposes of Rumple’s low profile. However, Rumple was a completely different man when he left their house, and the softer side of his personality that was only meant for Miles’ eyes stayed behind. Storybrooke saw the gentler points of their marriage at times, but it was kept to a minimum. The last thing Rumple needed was for that soft side to be exposed for all to see, especially now that he had his memories restored, and he knew that the rest of the town’s would follow suit soon.

 

Breaking the kiss, Rumple kept up the fake smile. “Miles, please, anyone could just walk right in on us.”

 

Miles looked around the empty store quickly, and then turned his attention back to his lover with a sarcastic smirk.

 

“Yeah, the place looks quite packed.” Miles let go of Rumple’s wrist and boosted himself as to sit on the counter. “So, any lunch plans?” Miles joined their hands and leaned against Rumple’s extended arm. “Any attractive ne’er do wells on their way to snatch you up from me?”

 

“No,” Rumple replied, stiffness overtaking the parts of his body that had contact with the cursed captain. “Just me.”

“Well,” Miles started, a playful glint in his eyes. “It looks like you’re stuck with me for your lunch date. Lucky you.” He started pressing tiny kisses against Rumple’s cheek. Rumple fought the sadistically great urge to pull apart from the younger man as he felt every peck penetrate his cheek.

 

_I have to do something._

 

He could barely stand Miles’ unwanted affection at home, but he wasn’t going to deal with it at work. Miles knew that even in his cursed form, Rumple wasn’t one for public affection and respected it, but with the shop empty, there was little holding him back from showing his husband just how much he loved and missed him.

 

Rumple needed to get them out of the shop. Miles always behaved himself when they were out in public, never outright showing open affection outside of warm smiles and hands held unless his partner allowed it.

 

Besides, Miles **had** come for lunch.

 

“Lunch at Granny’s,” he requested. “I’m getting a bit hungry.”

 

Miles smiled. “Only if you’re buying.” Miles released Rumple’s hand, and got off the counter. Rumple met him at the door, and the two departed for Granny’s.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

The pair arrived at Granny’s just as the lunch rush was coming to an end, and were seated at a small table across from the bar. The restaurant was nearly empty, so Granny took their order quickly after they sat down, and left the couple to their own devices. Rumple would’ve been content enough to wait in silence, but, for the second time today, his peace was shattered.

 

The bell by the restaurant’s door went off as two young ladies walked through it. The first to walk through the door both men easily recognized as Ruby Lucas, who offered a wave at the couple as she saw them before turning her attention to Granny. It seemed like Ruby still held appreciation for what Rumple did the night he got his memories back, for even though the wave was to both of them, her eyes met with Rumple rather than his companion. The other woman, who only Rumple truly recognized, despite Miles’ passing knowledge of her, was Ashley Boyd, a young, pregnant maid who made her living freelance cleaning for whoever would take her. The girl was very well along in her pregnancy, as evidenced by the large bump under her blue dress. Upon seeing Rumple, she moved closer to her friend, and eyed him. Despite the rage only contained by the glare on the young lady’s face, Rumple wasn’t surprised to see it at all. Ashley had made a deal with him, a deal which involved giving Rumple her child, and something was telling him that she was having second thoughts about the matter. He wasn’t too concerned, though. The townspeople had collectively and relentlessly given Ashley a hard time about having her child, the Lucas family being the rare exception. Not even the baby’s father or his father had shown Ashley any support since the announcement of her pregnancy, leaving the girl frantic to give her child their best chance. As for Rumple’s plans for the baby, he had arranged to sell them to a family on the other side of town. The family was an infertile couple who were desperate for a child, and willing to pay Rumple more than double what he was giving to Ms. Boyd for the baby.

 

Ashley’s glares were not lost on Miles eyes, and Rumple could see the gears turning in his husband’s head as he wondered just what the story between Rumple and Ashley was. Miles rarely approved of Rumple’s deals, feeling there were fairer ways to resolve conflicts than the bullying his husband was so often guilty of doing. If the matters were able to get to his attention in time, Miles would persuade Rumple not to do something that would detrimentally harm a person’s livelihood. Most of the time though, his deals were made under Miles’ nose for that very reason, and his lenders knew that even if Miles saved them from their current dangers, Rumple would find a way to give them noticeably worse consequences later on.

 

“What got you out of work this time?” Rumple asked, looking for something to distract the cursed pirate. He really didn’t want Miles getting involved this time. This venture was too profitable to give away.

 

“Waiting for some more bait to come in. They didn’t get enough last week, even though I told them to do so. I swear, they think I’m an idiot.”

 

The rest of their lunch passed by peacefully. Their talk continued on about Miles’ job, his catches of the day, and articles in the newspaper, particularly about the revived coma patient. Miles kept his romantic tendencies to himself, and even Rumple had to admit that this was the first time that he actually found the man tolerable and even a decent source of conversation. After about an hour, they left the restaurant, and headed back to Rumple’s shop.

 

_When he’s like this, he could be worse._

 

When the pair were nearing the shop, a familiar beep surfaced from Miles’ pants pocket. Miles looked at his cell phone, a groan escaping his lips seconds later. “Looks like my break is over. The bait just came in. Drive me back?”

 

Without thinking, Rumple nodded. “Sure.” Upon realizing what he did, Rumple went silent, as the two changed directions as to make their way towards Rumple’s car. He knew he couldn’t say no. The shop was empty, and Rumple and Miles both knew the pawnshop well enough to know that it would probably remain that way for the rest of the day.

 

That, however, wasn’t the problem.

 

What **was** the problem was the fact that Rumple barely minded doing it.

 

He had already lost an entire afternoon thanks to Miles’ little surprise. He should have been happy to let the man make the long journey back to the docks on foot, or at least taken anger or annoyance in the fact that he had no choice but to spend even more time than intended with his “husband.” But overall, he simply felt indifference. Indifference was an issue. Indifference was a step below hate. When the curse broke, he needed his hatred to be strong, because once Miles was Hook again, he would carry the emotion ten-fold. Anything less than absolute abhorrence for the pirate was unacceptable.

 

_I need some alone time._

_Obviously, spending too much time with Miles is hindering my common sense._

 

He was becoming desensitized to his emotions, and it needed to stop **now**.

 

There wasn’t much of the day left, however. He had about three and a half hours until his shop closed, and Miles would expect him home no less than an hour later than that.

 

Suddenly, Rumple got an idea.

 

“I’m going to be back late tonight. I want to get some inventory done,” Rumple blurted out. Every so often, Rumple’s cursed counterpart needed to stay in the shop later than usual. Whether it involved extra inventory, meeting with a lender, or counting up the rent he collected, sometimes, his work hours were simply not long enough to get everything done. He hadn’t stayed late at the shop since about a month before his curse broke, so it wouldn’t seem out of place to Miles. Rumple was content settling for a few extra hours to himself after losing most of his afternoon, and it would offer him time to refuel his hatred for the pirate who took his first love away.

 

Miles gazed at his husband questioningly before softening his eyes. “Alright. Want me to leave dinner in the fridge for you?”

 

“No thanks, I’ll just get some takeout.”

 

The drive back to the docks passed by in a comfortable silence. When Rumple pulled the car up to the nearest lot, Miles took his hand.

 

“Don’t stay out too late, love,” he said, pressing a kiss to Rumple’s wrist. “You know I get so lonely falling asleep without you,” he added, winking at his companion.

 

“I won’t,” Rumple replied, rasp evident in his voice. Truthfully, Rumple found himself internally thankful that he could feel his discomfort returning. Miles pulled the older man in for one more kiss before leaving the car.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Rumple stayed in the shop an extra three hours after his regular closing time before finally deciding to call it a night. He took advantage of the extra alone time by reading his magic books more carefully. While he didn’t find any loopholes that would get his power back any faster, he had some ideas about where the True Love’s essence he brought to this land may be.

 

_I’ll get to looking at these tout suite!_

He turned the open sign around, turned off the lights, and locked the door as he left the shop. As Rumple closed in on his car, he heard a distinct, yet familiar tone. Rumple reached into his coat pocket and removed his cellphone only to see a text from Miles displayed on the phone’s bright screen.

 

Sorry, love, but I left my wallet back in the shop while I was visiting.

Can you bring it home with you when you come back?

Thanks! <3

 

Rumple rolled his eyes, and turned around. Even before he learned of the curse, one of his greatest pet peeves was when Miles would forget his possessions in the shop.

 

_Just one more quality to hate, on top of being reckless, presumptuous, messy, sassy, and much to quick to go for the drink._

 

As he arrived at the front door of the pawnshop, Rumple paused in his tracks. One of the windowpanes on the door of the shop was shattered, exposing the lock on the other side. Only one conclusion could be reached fro such a sight:

 

There was a trespasser in his shop, and he was being robbed.

 

_Not for long._

 

With surprisingly little fear in his heart, Rumple silently pushed the door open and stalked inside in pursuit of the burglar. He closed and locked the door behind him, as to make a possible chase much easier on his part. The shop was dark, the light of the moon through the windows the only source of brightness. Rumple stopped and listened for a sound that would give his intruder’s location away. He could hear creaks coming from the floorboards in the back room.

 

Rumple took a deep breath and continued to sneak around the shop towards the sounds in question. The creaks grew louder as he made his way around the counter, and into the frame that connected the two rooms. When Rumple finally got to the back room, his burglar’s form finally came into view.

 

“Ashley,” he spoke.

 

The woman in question turned around at Rumple’s voice to face him, fear, desperation, and determination in her eyes. “What are you doing?”

 

Of course, he knew what she was doing. It seems as Ashley’s second thoughts had taken priority, and now she wanted her child.

 

The girl was holding a cinder block, and stood in front of a safe that until now remained hidden behind a painting on the wall. This safe was guarded well by one key, and Rumple knew that it could not be found in any drawer in the pawnshop.

 

“Changing my life,” she snipped. Rumple scrunched his face in confusion for the barest of moments.

Before he could say anything in response, Ashley pulled out a canister of pepper spray. Rumple was caught off guard, and could do nothing as the pregnant woman fired the blinding concoction directly at his eyes. Rumple moved back, attempting to retreat from the source of the burning sensation. However, he went too far, and bumped into a glass cabinet, which pushed him forward as recoil. Unable to reclaim his balance, Rumple fell to the floor. The impact of the fall caused several pieces of a nearby chess set to fall on top of his head, one cutting into his forehead as gravity pushed it onto the floor.

 

Ashley watched as Rumple’s consciousness faded. She was about to shift her focus to the safe again when saw something shining from inside the man’s coat. She opened Rumple’s coat only to see a gold-colored key attached to his belt.

 

The key to the safe.

 

She took hold of the key and spared Rumple one more glance before returning her attention to the safe, suddenly much more hopeful about her future with her child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading! So, here’s my special announcement!
> 
> I’m starting an incentive program for this fic! Allow me to explain:
> 
> When I write this fic, to keep myself from getting frustrated or feeling tied down to the current chapter if I’m just not feeling inspired to write it (Read: this chapter and chapter 3), I have an extensive outline of all my plans for the fic so I can write whatever part of it I feel like. For example, I’ve already written a fairly extensive part of the Post-curse arc, and there are some chapters that are nearly complete but that won’t be appearing in the story for quite some time, but I really wanted to write them. This system allows me to write scenes as they come to me. In addition, I won’t post a new chapter unless I have part of the following chapter completed in order to keep the momentum going. With all this in mind, I had an idea.
> 
> Every chapter, if you post a substantial comment, and include an * symbol (or just write the word asterix if your computer can’t make that symbol) at the end of your comment, I will send you a sneak peek at the next chapter. By substantial, I just want 1-2 sentences about what you thought of the chapter or the fic in general (Feel free to write more if you’re so inclined). Questions will also work. This will apply to both positive and negative comments, although the negative comments MUST be constructive criticism and not just trolling. Every commenter will get the same sneak peek, so please don’t send multiple comments for extras. I will do my best to give the commenters a few paragraphs of the next chapter, and I’m going to try my best to make them spoiler free.
> 
> I hope to see many of you participate! Thank you again for reading, and have a great day!


	6. The Means to an End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.
> 
> A/N: Hey everyone! Just reminding you all, my incentive program will still be going on, so send a decent comment (1-2 sentences, positive comments, negative constructive criticism, or questions are acceptable) with an * symbol, and you’ll get a sneak peek of the next chapter! 
> 
> This ended up being a looooooong chapter! Twenty Microsoft Word pages! I would’ve considered dividing it up again, but honestly, the flow was just too good to break. The only part I could see making a break during made one chapter too long and another chapter too short. 
> 
> Well, I bet everyone would like to get on to the show after last chapter’s cliffhanger, so I won’t hold you back any further!
> 
> Enjoy!

**Beep!**

**Beep!**

Miles groaned as he opened his eyes, his dreamless rest interrupted as usual by, what was in his opinion, the most annoying sound in the world.

**Beep!**

**Beep!**

_We seriously need a new alarm clock._

 

His typical happy-go-lucky attitude vanished every time he heard that blasted beeping sound. He liked waking up naturally, and a blaring time overseer offered him little opportunity to greet the new day with any kind of joy.

 

**Beep!**

**Beep!**

“Rob,” he whined. Rob was the one in charge of turning off the device every morning, and Miles swore it was only that way out of fear that he would destroy the cursed machine if his husband didn’t quiet it peacefully.

 

The only response to his cry was the continued noise stemming from the alarm clock.

 

**Beep!**

**Beep!**

Suddenly, Miles became aware of the absence of warmth from the other side of the bed. As he finally put an end to the clock’s bleats, he looked around the bedroom for any sign of his husband, but to no avail. He couldn’t even find a shred of evidence that Robert had come in last night.

 

Quickly, Miles sat up and reached for the cell phone on his nightstand. He picked Robert’s name off the contact list, and waited with baited breath for a connection between the two devices to be reached.

 

**Ring…ring…ring…ring…ring… Hello. This is Robert Gold. I can’t come to the phone right now, but please leave your name, number, and a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.**

“Damn it,” Miles muttered. “Rob. It’s Miles. Are you alright? Did you come home last night? Call me when you can.” He left the bed, and went downstairs to see if his husband’s car was in the driveway.

 

_Shit. Nothing._

 

Next, he tried calling the shop’s phone number. After a few rings, he was treated to a similar answering machine message, and thus, gave a similar, albeit slightly more panicked, message of his own in turn.

 

Miles ran back upstairs, and quickly threw some clothes on. He tried once more to call Robert, but the results mirrored his first two attempts. His next call was made to his boss to tell him he’d be in late.

 

Without a car, Miles was forced to travel to the pawnshop on foot. While walking to Robert’s workplace, he continued to call both his husband’s private phone as well as the shop’s number, but he was still led to the same automated message every single time he did so. Whenever that would happen, Miles found his relatively fast walk move closer to a hurried sprint.

 

Miles felt a bit of relief wash over him as he neared the pawnshop, mostly due to the fact that he saw his husband’s car parked in it’s usual spot in the lot adjacent to the store, and partially because he could finally stop running. That relief, however, was short lived when he saw a shattered windowpane above the door’s knob.

 

_What the fuck happened here?_

 

He tried to open the door, but it was locked. Carefully, Miles reached his hand through the windowpane, careful not to hurt himself on the broken glass on the door’s surface and unlocked it.

 

“Rob,” he cried as he stepped through the entrance, receiving only quietness once again for his efforts. “Rob!” Nothing came into his sight as he scanned the shop either. Miles’ felt his breath thinning.

 

_Rob, where are you?_

His hand and stub were trembling. Robert hadn’t responded to anything Miles had done all morning, and now there was clear evidence of a break-in. For all he knew, Rob could’ve been kidnapped or attacked or worse…

 

Miles shuddered, barely able to stand the fear pulsing through his body like blood through a heart.

_Come on Miles, you need to think clearly. That’s what Rob would do._

Miles looked around the room again, this time taking notice of the connecting frame between the room he was standing in and the back room. Before he knew what he was doing, he rushed around the counter towards the hidden space, completely blind to his missing wallet behind it. When Miles finally arrived, he stopped dead in his tracks, immobilized by the sight before him.

 

Less than ten feet from where he stood, Robert lay on the floor unconscious.

 

“ROB!”

 

Out of his daze, Miles rushed to his husband’s side. His first thought was to listen for a heartbeat. Within seconds, he found himself pushing his ear into Robert’s chest, listening for even the tiniest beat, the seconds feeling like days to him as tears formed in his eyes.

 

_Rob, please. Don’t leave me._

 

Finally, after a few more seconds, he heard the heavenly sound of the beat of his husband’s heart. Miles took a deep breath, as he worked out what to do next. He looked at Robert’s body, as it lay unconscious. His jacket was opened, and his previously unscathed forehead was now adorned with a big, unsightly wound with blood covering the injury’s entire surface. Miles started to support Robert’s upper body with his left arm, his right hand feeling around for fever and gently touching the wound’s surface. While there were no signs of fever, Miles became especially unnerved when Robert didn’t even flinch as he applied pressure to what was undeniably a painful injury.

 

_He needs medical attention._

Reluctantly, Miles returned his husband’s figure back to the floor. He knew Rob, in all likelihood, wouldn’t hear what he said, but he still felt the need to say something before leaving him, no matter the reason for doing so.

 

“I’m going to get help. I promise I’ll be right back, so don’t go anywhere. I-I love you.”

 

With that, Miles ran out of the store in search of assistance.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Emma Swan was enjoying the crisp November air, having just dropped off Henry by the bus stop. The past two weeks had been quite an exciting ride for her. Between finding out that she had a son, uprooting her life all the way to Maine in order to ensure that son’s well being, and becoming nemeses with the most powerful woman in Storybrooke, her life had taken quite the turn from being the loner bail bonds person she once was. She had to admit, while she didn’t mind becoming acquainted with everyone she’d met since moving to the quiet town, barring one raven-haired mayor, of course, she was taking pleasure in enjoying some much desired alone time.

 

Emma was about to cross a street when she found herself stopped by the loud holler of a police siren.

 

_Well, that was fun while it lasted._

 

A patrol car pulled up to her, and as expected, none other than Sheriff Graham emerged from the driver’s door.

 

“What’s with the siren,” Emma amusedly asked as Graham exited the car.

 

“It’s so hard to get your attention,” the sheriff shrugged, moving closer to the leather-clad woman. It was hardly a secret to Emma that the town’s sheriff had taken an interest in her. Anytime Regina forced his hand to harm Emma, he always took the first opportunity to let her off easy, so naturally, it was no surprise that the sheriff would take any opportunity to get close to her.

 

“Well, you got it. Are you arresting me again?”

 

_Please don’t arrest me again. I almost have enough mug shots to make a photo album._

 

“I’m thanking you,” the sheriff replied, shaking his head. “For your help finding that coma patient. We all owe you a debt of gratitude.”

 

“Well, what do I get? A commendation? Key to the city,” Emma asked with mock anticipation.

 

“How about a job? I could use a deputy.” Graham couldn’t lie to himself that Emma’s skills clearly outdid his. She was effective with technology, a feat which she beautifully showed as she recovered Henry’s Internet history on her first day in town. Not to mention, that superpower of hers would make interrogations much easier. Her power coupled with that icy cold stare of hers would have criminals on their knees in seconds. Plus, he just overall liked Emma. She was feisty, intelligent, and straightforward, not to mention, quite the cutie to boot.

 

“Thank you, but I have a job,” the woman replied in a matter-of-fact fashion.

 

“As a bail bonds person? Not much of that going on here.”

 

“I don’t see a lot of sheriffing going on around here, either,” Emma countered.

 

_Unless said “sheriffing” involves Madame Mayor targeting me._

 

“Well, here’s your chance to see it up close.” Feeling Emma’s hesitance, he added, “There’s dental,” winking as he did so. Graham saw that his joke did little to sway her, and sighed. “Why don’t you think about it? Stay a while.” Graham took a business card out of his wallet, and was about to hand it to Emma when they were stopped by a harsh cry.

“Help!”

 

Emma and Graham turned their heads to see a man running towards them, his breathing heavy and his eyes filled with terror. The man had short black hair, and was dressed in all black clothes, from his shirt to his jeans to his leather jacket. He had one hand, the other gone, with only a stump and an accompanying brace covering its remains. Graham quickly identified the man as Miles Gold, one of the town’s local fishermen and an acquaintance of his.

 

“Please, help sheriff,” Miles cried, finally getting close enough to the pair where he could slow down. “My husband! He’s unconscious on the floor of his shop, and he’s not getting up! Please, help him. He’s right down the road.” After he finished, he coughed a few times trying to catch his breath.

 

“Well, let’s not waste any time then,” Graham answered, gesturing Miles towards his car. As he moved towards the police car, the sheriff’s attention momentarily returned to Emma as he saw her face out of the corner of his eye. Emma may not have known this man, but her concern for his predicament was as plain as the pretty nose on her face. In addition, this seemed to be just the right situation to show her the benefits of being his deputy, and he really didn’t want to pass that opportunity up.

 

_Maybe a taste of the town’s “sheriffing” is all she needs. Helping people, arresting crooks. She’ll love that._

 

“You should come along,” Graham suggested, gesturing towards Emma as he and Miles got into the vehicle. “Get a good idea of what a day on the force is like.”

 

“Sure,” Emma shrugged, rushing into the backseat of the police car. Honestly, the only reason she agreed as fast as she did was so Graham could get to the scene quicker. The man now sitting beside Graham desperately needed help, if his entrance into their conversation was anything to go by, and Graham delaying his husband necessary assistance by spending precious time persuading her to come along was the last thing the man needed.

 

Emma was barely in the car when the sheriff pounded on the accelerator, speeding the trio across town.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

The group ignored the parking lot entirely in favor of parking directly in front of the shop when they arrived.

 

_It’s not like the sheriff was going to give his own car a ticket._

 

Miles led Graham and Emma inside and into the back room. While unhappy, he wasn’t too surprised to see his husband laying exactly where and how he left him.

 

“Rob,” Miles called. Nothing. Graham approached the two and got down on one knee beside Rumple. “I’m gonna have a look at him,” he said, looking at Miles with grace and professionalism. Graham signaled at Emma with his eyes to comfort Miles, and then turned his attention to the unconscious man before Emma could protest.

 

_You owe me bear claws for a week after this, buddy._

 

It wasn’t that Emma didn’t want to comfort Miles. She just never considered herself good at comforting people in general. She was good at being honest, blunt to a fault even, and far from the reassuring type. She didn’t want to talk to Miles, if only to lower the risk of making the man feel worse about his husband’s condition, or to not come off as disingenuous and make him feel obligated to talk to her just because she was hanging around the sheriff.

 

She looked over at the man the sheriff had left her in charge of. To his credit, Miles was being very cooperative with Graham, and Emma genuinely believed he was putting on the bravest face he could with the circumstances being what they were. However, the fear in his eyes was still as obvious as any emotion could possibly be, and it was understandable as to why. Emma may not have had people she was close to in her life, but she remembered how amazing and important it felt to hold on to them when she did. The Swan Family, Neal, Lily. She wanted to believe in the love they felt for her with all her heart, even as she the pedestals she placed them on fell like straw houses during an earthquake, and it was only after she dashed every possibility that their hands were forced did she finally see them for who they truly were.

 

But that wasn’t the same as this. Miles loved Gold, and Emma’s superpower detected no insincerities about that. They were married, and probably had been for some time. Not to mention, Miles was looking pale, and couldn’t take his eyes off the scene before him. She saw the weakness in his heart as he witnessed Graham poke and prod his beloved. Emma knew she needed to do something, if only to distract him for a bit.

 

_Well, time to try my hand at comforting._

“I’m sure he’s okay,” Emma consoled, putting a hand on the panicked man’s shoulder. “Sheriff Graham’s doing everything he can for Gold. Gold’s a tough guy too, so he’ll pull through.”

 

_Way to be clichéd, Swan._

 

Killian wanted to groan in some combination of annoyance and frustration, but held himself back. After all, she was right. Graham was examining the wound on Robert’s head, and listening for signs of unusual breathing. Miles turned to face the woman and gazed into her green eyes. They were both firm and honest, and surprisingly, that proved to be quite comforting. Right now, as much as he wanted to be worried for his husband’s fate, Miles knew that he needed comforting.

 

While still clearly upset, Miles washed all fear off of his face and put on a brave, but still false smile. “Thanks. I just can’t help being nervous about Rob. I’ve never really seen him like this.”

 

“You two are pretty close, I guess? I mean obviously, you’re married, but... you know. Some couples aren’t like that.”

 

_Ungh. Now I insulted him. Great going, Swan! Maybe I should just leave him alone._

 

Miles could see Emma’s nerves. She was unconfident that she had made any strides in helping Miles calm down and believe in the sheriff’s skills, but that was simply not the case. He appreciated the woman’s efforts to help him relax because they were actually effective. She wasn’t trying to make him think about another issue other than his husband, but asked about him in a new way. It kind of reminded Miles about how he and Robert first met, and how they came to be as close as they were. Overall, Emma just came off as trustworthy kindred spirit, despite only knowing her for a few brief moments, and he felt that he should at least make her feel like her exertions weren’t for naught.

 

He nodded. “I don’t have a lot of people I’m especially close to,” he confessed. “I’ve got friends, sure, but none of them are like Rob. He’s kind of my rock, so I guess the idea of him being anything other than his usually strong self is pretty much unheard of to me.”

 

“No family?”

 

“All dead: My mother during childbirth, my older brother in an incident of medical malpractice when I was a teenager, and no known extended family to speak of. My father might still be alive, but that bastard abandoned us when I was only a young lad, so he can go to hell for all I care, if he isn’t there already. My brother became my father in his steed, and when he died, I decided not to aim for any long-term relationships. I just felt like other than my brother, I didn’t really feel loved or belong. I always just felt like “Connor’s little brother,” and little else, and while I was liked, it never felt like I would be that terribly needed or missed if I disappeared. Then I met Rob after I lost my hand, and he and I just… understood each other. We saw in each other the qualities that everyone else couldn’t, and we grew together from there.”

 

“I know you may not believe it, but I kind of understand. I was abandoned by my parents when I was a baby, and found on the side of a road.”

 

“Really now,” Miles asked. This woman had his curiosity peaked. “So, were you adopted?”

 

“No. I spent my childhood in the system. I went from family to family, trying my best to be a good kid and not cause trouble. It didn’t matter though; they all just kept sending me back in the end. I didn’t have much better luck making friends, so, after a while, I just got used to the idea that… I’d always be alone.” They both got quiet. Miles could see from her face that she didn’t really want to talk about her past anymore, and he wasn’t one to push a horse to water if it didn’t need to drink. Miles felt bad though, even if he knew that was the last thing the woman wanted him to feel about her. He could tell from their conversation that Emma was a good person, and it’s a shame that she felt as lonely as she did. In hindsight, at least his story had a happy ending with Robert. She, on the other hand, seemed to believe that hers wouldn’t be nearly as promising. He knew she’d never admit it out loud, but right now, as she stood there watching Graham examine his husband while biting her lip and crossing her arms, Miles could see a vulnerable side to her, and it wasn’t unlike his own. Even with all that, she still worked to make him feel better, and now it was Miles’ time to try to repay the favor.

 

“I’m Miles, by the way,” he stammered. “Sorry for the late introduction.” He extended his good hand, which Emma took with a smile.

 

“Swan. Emma Swan.”

 

“Swan? Nice name. I like it,” Miles said, finally finding it in himself to make a genuine smile again. “Thanks, Swan… for helping me clear my head. I really do appreciate it.”

 

_Phew. Looks like I saved that one._

Before either could say anything more, they were interrupted by a yell from the sheriff.

 

“He’s waking up,” Graham called. As soon as he said that, Rumple’s eyes fluttered open, and he wordlessly began observing his surroundings.

 

“Rob,” Miles cried, rushing to Rumple’s side. Miles gently took Rumple’s head into his left arm, joined their hands, and supported the blonde’s shoulders with his thighs. “You’re okay,” he breathed.

 

Rumple remained speechless for the moment. There were so many questions floating through his mind, he didn’t know which one to tackle first. What happened? Why were Miles, Sheriff Graham, and Emma Swan in his shop? Why was he on the floor?

 

_Why does my head hurt so much?_

Rumple instinctively reached for his forehead, only to grunt in pain and close his eyes upon touching the wound.

 

“Careful, Rob,” Miles softly cooed. “You got hurt last night. Emma,” he said, his voice picking up as he looked at the blonde. “There’s a pillow on the cot over there by that safe. Can you grab it and bring it here?”

 

_Safe?_

 

Rumple opened his eyes and looked at the painting-hidden-safe; it’s location now exposed for all to see. Suddenly, everything came back to him.

 

_I was attacked. Ashley broke into my shop last night and stole the adoption papers._

_She’s about to be very, very sorry._

Rumple glowered, his hands balling into fists. Miles, who was still holding Rumple’s hand, took this as a sign that his husband was in need of comfort and squeezed his hand in return.

 

“You’re safe now, love,” he murmured into Rumple’s ear, pulling the two closer together as Emma placed the pillow atop Miles’ thighs.

 

_Of course, I’d have to deal with lover boy too._

 

As soon as the pillow was situated, Rumple drew himself away from his husband’s warm embrace.

 

Graham coughed, getting everyone’s attention.

 

“Mr. Gold, I don’t mean to rush you, but if you’re feeling well enough, would you be willing to answer some questions?”

 

“Certainly, sheriff.”

 

“To start off, can you tell me what you know about what happened to you last night?”

 

Rumple recounted the story of his attack for Graham and company, only leaving out his perpetrator’s name from the testimony. Rumple went straight through, and was only interrupted by a gasp from Miles immediately after he told the group why he had to go back to the store that evening in the first place. Miles looked like he was just shot when his husband looked up to face him. However, a deep breath was the only emotional response Rumple gave, before moving on with the story. Graham paused after Rumple finished to write up the details for his report.

 

“Do you know who attacked you?”

 

“Yes,” Rumple said through gritted teeth with a matter-of-fact tone in his voice. “Her name is Ashley Boyd.”

 

Graham sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He knew who she was, and while he was unaware of her deal with the pawnbroker, he did know that it more likely than not had to do with her child, and whatever it was, any action taken on her would put the baby in a bad situation. “Are you going to press charges?”

 

Rumple was about to confirm his intentions to do just that when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Emma, who had remained quiet since Rumple woke up, was showing signs of something with her face.

 

 

Emma Swan knew Ashley Boyd.

 

_My opening._

“Not at the moment. I wish to try to reason with her.” The rest of the room made no efforts to hide their shock. Rumple was a man who seldom showed any form of understanding when it came to his property other than instant gratification. Even Emma, who knew little about Rumple, knew just from everyone else that he was not the most generous person on the planet. Hell, even she would want some compensation if it were her stuff!

 

“Do you have any idea what Ms. Boyd stole,” Graham asked, continuing the interrogation.

 

“I’m honestly not sure,” Rumple lied. “I just woke up, so I’ll need to conduct inventory after you leave.”

 

“How are you feeling? Do you think you can get up?”

 

Rumple tried to stand, grabbing his cane, and much to his satisfaction, he actually succeeded. Miles helped him get to his feet, but Rumple dismissed him once he got his balance back. He took a few steps, and then turned to the expectant officer.

 

“Looks like I’m quite well.”

 

Graham asked a few more standard questions before finally saying he had enough information for his report. He offered Emma a ride back to Mary Margaret’s loft, which she gladly accepted, and the two took off, leaving Rumple and Miles alone.

 

“I’m so glad you’re alright, Rob. Oh god, it’s all my fault. I’m sorry you got into danger on my account,” Miles said, pulling Rumple into a hug and digging his head into the older man’s neck.

 

“Yes, well, I **am** okay,” Rumple assured him, grimacing at yet another embrace from his husband before breaking the hug. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

 

Miles raised his eyebrows. “You could’ve been **dead** , and you think I’d go to **work**?”

 

Rumple shrugged.

 

Miles kissed Rumple on the cheek. “You’re insane. Now, come on. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

 

_What?_

 

“Didn’t you hear me when I was talking to the sheriff, dearie? I’m perfectly fine. Plus, I need to find out what Miss Boyd stole so Sheriff Graham can finish his report.”

 

_And I can get y Savior._

 

The younger man looked at Rumple unconvinced. “Rob, look at that wound on your head. That could be a concussion or infected for all we know. I put you in danger once, and I’m not going to risk doing it again by leaving you alone. We’re getting that checked out immediately. No time to waste.” Miles looped his arm around Rumple’s shoulders and started leading them towards the door, barely noticing Rumple’s anger boiling like a volcano ready to blow.

 

_He’s not even listening!_

 

_This is too much. I’m not losing out on this opportune time with the Savior on **his** account!_

 

“ **Miles** ,” Rumple snapped, finally succeeding at getting Miles to stop walking and look at him. “I am not a child! I don’t need you cooing and coddling and holding me like I’m some kind of infant who can’t do anything for himself!” He pulled away from Miles’ arm, the cursed pirate’s stub only remaining on his upper arm.

 

“Rob, please,” Miles begged, trying to pull Rumple back to him with the stub. “Let’s not fight.”

 

“Then just let me take care of myself,” Rumple gritted, trying and failing to fully separate himself free.

 

“ **I** want to take care of you. You’re my husband, and I love y-“

 

“I don’t care,” Rumple interrupted, screaming as he did so. “I’m a grown man, and I can handle this **on my own**! I know what’s best for me, and right now. **That’s. Not. You!** ” He pulled the rest of his body free of Miles’ touch and glared at him in silence.

 

Any argument Miles was going to make died in his throat. His mouth was agape and his eyes would’ve made anyone else think he was just stabbed in the heart. He lowered his head, and shut his eyes tight, no doubt killing off any tears before had the chance to be born.

 

“Very well, then. You’re in charge,” the younger man muttered, making his way out of the shop without another word or glance Rumple’s way. Once he was sure Miles was out of earshot, Rumple sighed.

 

_Alone at last._

 

Rumple started getting his bearings in order. He picked up the chess pieces that fell down when Ashley assaulted him as well as removed broken items in the glass cabinet that he bumped into during the attack. He took some duct tape out of his supply closet and began covering up the hole the pregnant maid created last night. When he was confident that the repair job was secure, he began to get ready to drive over to the loft Emma lived at.

 

As Rumple got in his car, nearly prepared to pursue the Savior, the image of Miles entered his brain. The eyes that he made at Rumple after the pawnbroker snapped at him were hard to ignore, and Rumple considered the possibility of sending an apology text. He looked at his phone, which had twelve calls as well as accompanying voicemails made this morning alone, all of which came from his husband. He listened to a couple, and every one, barring the first was littered with the kind of fear that only came with possibly losing a loved one.

 

_Am I feeling…guilty?_

 

_Don’t think about it now, Rumple. He’s just the means to an end, and now’s the time to strategize about my move towards Miss Swan._

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Emma was nervous. Ashley Boyd both **stole from** and assaulted Gold. Yes, Emma had talked to Ashley yesterday about keeping her child, but she never intended what she said would have **that** kind of effect on the pregnant woman! Obviously, there had to be more of a story between Mr. Gold and Ashley than she had been led to believe, and whatever she stole from the pawnshop owner must’ve been damn near priceless. However, Emma had no way of contacting the pregnant woman, and her new roommate, Mary Margaret just called saying that her possessions from Boston just arrived at their loft. She could talk with the pregnant maid when they saw each other again, but for right now, she thought it best to put the girl out of her mind.

 

When she got back to the loft, she saw a couple of brown boxes waiting for her, and a busy Mary Margaret, up to her elbows in bacon, eggs, and butter. As Emma began to unpack her stuff, she regaled Mary Margaret with her tales of the morning’s adventures. The teacher, unsurprisingly, was shocked by what she heard. Emma reassured her that Gold was standing and walking fine when she left him and that he and Miles were most likely getting the injury examined as they spoke. After that, Emma started unpacking her few possessions while Mary Margaret finished cooking breakfast.

 

The two ladies were just about to partake in the schoolteacher’s freshly prepared meal when they were interrupted by a few bangs on the door.

 

Mary Margaret placed her plate on the nearby table before answering the knocks. Much to her surprise, on the opposite side of the door was Robert Gold.

 

“Miss Blanchard,” Rumple greeted. Mary Margaret saw that Emma was true to her word. Other than the wound on his forehead, Mr. Gold looked no worse for wear. She felt unsettled, but that could go for anytime that the pawnshop owner ever approached her.

 

“Is Miss Swan here,” he asked. Mary Margaret wordlessly gestured towards Emma who was already moving to meet the pawnbroker. “Hi. My name’s Mr. Gold,” he welcomed, as she finally neared the front door, extending a hand out towards her. “We met briefly on your arrival, and obviously, got a bit more acquainted this morning in my shop.”

 

“I know,” Emma said, meeting his hand with her own.

 

“Good,” Rumple breathed. “Thank you again, by the way for your assistance earlier today. Now, I have a proposition for you, Miss Swan. I- uh- I need your help. I’m looking for someone.”

 

Something about Gold didn’t come off right to Emma. He was much too pleasant and relaxed at the moment, especially considering he just woke up from an assault no more than two hours ago. Also, where was Miles? With the way that he had been panicking about Gold’s injury, Emma found it hard to believe his husband would let the man out of his sight for the rest of the day.

 

“Really,” Emma asked warily. Mary Margaret seemed to share the sentiments, for her eyebrows shot straight up as Gold asked his questions.

 

Rumple gestured at Emma’s roommate that he wished for some privacy. The last thing he needed now was any warning against helping him, or any unwanted second opinions. Mary Margaret was scared of Rumple, and right now, that was just dandy with him.

 

Before Emma could finish say anything, Mary Margaret interceded.

 

“You know, I’m gonna go jump in-in the bath,” the teacher said, excusing herself. The two were alone now, and it was finally time to get down to brass tacks.

 

“Where’s Miles,” Emma asked. “I’m surprised he’s not dragging you off to a date with Dr. Whale right about now.”

 

Rumple fought with everything he could to prevent the glare that was trying to fight its way up to his face off.

 

_Don’t mess this up now, Rumple._

 

“We talked, and I convinced him that I was perfectly fine.”

 

“Fair enough,” Emma said, not entirely convinced of the truth behind his words, but there was hardly anything she could do to find out one way or the other. “So, about your missing person?”

 

“I would give you a photo,” Rumple started. “However, I think you already know who I’m looking for. Ashley Boyd. I could tell when our dear sheriff was interrogating me that you seemed… caught off guard when I mentioned her name. You know who she is. She’s taken something quite valuable of mine.”

 

“So, why didn’t you just press charges when Graham asked you?”

 

“Because, uh,” Gold responded, waving his hands as he searched for just the right words.

 

_I need to make this as convincing as I can._

_Come on, Rumple._

_If you can pretend to romance Captain Hook of all people, you can convince anyone you feel anything._

 

“She’s a confused young woman. She’s pregnant. Alone. Scared. I don’t want to ruin this young girl’s life. I just want my property returned.” Rumple could barely suppress his glee as Emma face showed sympathy.

 

_I got her._

“What is it,” Emma questioned.

 

“Well, one of the advantages of you not being the police is discretion. Let’s just say it’s a precious object. This whole thing is so unlike her. She was so wound up, rambling on about changing her life. No idea what got into her?”

 

Emma gulped. She felt like a pit the size of Kansas just emerged in her stomach.

 

_Ah. So she’s the one who gave Miss Boyd got that little piece of advice._

 

“Miss Swan,” Gold pleaded. “Please just help me find her. You know the only other choice is the police, and I don’t think anyone wants to see that baby born in jail, now do they?”

 

“No. Of course not.” Emma answered quickly.

 

_You were very quick to answer that, Miss Swan. Perhaps too quick._

“You’ll help me then?”

 

“…I will help **her** ,” Emma responded, the flawlessness of her poker face coming into play. Though Emma honestly felt a bit queasy, especially knowing the part she played in Gold’s assault, she wasn’t about to let the pawnbroker know that.

 

“Good.”

 

_Check and mate._

 

Before their conversation could continue, the front door opened and Henry entered the loft.

 

“Hey, Emma. I was thinking we could,” the boy started before he saw Rumple. The two made eye contact.

 

“Hey, Henry,” Rumple said, smiling at the boy. “How are you?”

 

“O…kay,” the boy responded awkwardly.

 

_What’s gotten into him? Eh, no matter._

“Good,” Rumple muttered, making his way out of the loft. “Give my regards to your mother, and,” Rumple added, facing towards Emma, “Good luck Miss Swan.” He took the final steps out of the loft when a wicked grin appeared on his face.

 

It was just a matter of time now.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Rumple bided his time after his conversation with Emma in the Storybrooke Hospital waiting room. He knew the Savior and Ashley would eventually show up, but that any early interference on his part could spell disaster for his plan. Thankfully, as he was noted as the most powerful man in town by the majority of the population, most people were too nervous to confront him about his intentions in the ward, allowing Rumple to enjoy a nice, quiet wait.

 

Finally, after a few hours of waiting, he saw two patches of blonde hair as well as one patch of brown hair enter the hospital. Quickly, he snuck out of sight and examined the maternity ward’s newest visitors. Ashley, awake and in agonizing pain and showed clear signs that her baby was on its way, was escorted into a room in the maternity ward. Emma and Henry, meanwhile, were forced to stay in the waiting room. After an hour, Rumple knew his waiting game was at last over as a nurse came up to Emma and announced the baby’s birth.

 

Rumple walked into view just as the nurse finished informing Emma of Ashley’s state of being.

 

“What lovely news,” he started, as Emma greeted him with a face of pure exasperation. “Excellent work, Miss Swan. Thank you for bringing me my merchandise.”

 

“Gold,” she breathed.

 

“Hello,” he greeted. “You too, Henry. I’m going to grab some coffee.” He signaled Emma towards a door at the far side of the room.

 

“Stay here, Henry,” Emma sighed. “We’ll be right back.” She had to try to reason with Gold, and whether it was achieved through words, promises, trades, or fists, she definitely didn’t want Henry to witness it. The kid already had a fragile mind with his fairy tale theory, but something like imitating one of Emma’s more…forceful tactics would surely get him a one-way trip to an asylum. He saw her as a role model, so she damn well needed to be one.

 

“Pick me up a hot cocoa, Emma,” he asked cheerily.

 

Emma and Rumple walked to the coffee room, where a big coffee machine stood. Rumple put a cup by the dispenser, but rather than deposit money, he just hit it two times before the black liquid flowed out of it.

 

_Classic intimidation. Just a bit more nerves, and she’ll be putty in my hands._

 

“Must be my lucky day,” Rumple muttered as the coffee streamed from the machine into his cup. Finally looking up to face Emma, he tilted his cup towards her. “Care for a cup, Miss Swan?”

 

“That baby,” Emma said, her steely green eyes glowering, as to show that she was having none of his fraudulence. “That’s your merchandise? Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

Rumple started walking in the other direction, gesturing for Emma to follow him.

 

“Well, because at that time, you didn’t need to know.”

 

“Really, or you thought I wouldn’t take the job?”

 

“On the contrary,” Rumple retorted, stopping and turning to face Emma. “I thought it’d be more effective if you found out yourself.” Emma looked at him confused, so Rumple decided to elaborate. “After seeing Ashley’s hard life, I thought it would make sense… to you. I mean if anyone could understand the reasons behind giving up her baby, I’d assumed it would be you.”

 

Emma flared up and shook her head. “You’re not getting that kid.”

 

“Actually,” Rumple countered. “We have an agreement. My agreements are always honored. If not, I’m gonna have to involve the police. And that baby’s gonna end up in the system. And that’d be a pity. You didn’t enjoy your time in the system, did you?”

 

Just as Rumple hoped, Emma didn’t back down.

 

“That’s not gonna happen,” she challenged.

 

Rumple smiled. “I like your confidence. Charming. But all I’m gonna have to do is press charges. She did after all break into my shop. “

 

“Let me guess. To steal a contract.”

 

Rumple shrugged. “Who knows what she was after?”

 

“You know no jury in the world will put a woman in jail who’s only reason for breaking and entering was to keep her child,” Emma contested. “I’m willing to roll the dice that contract doesn’t stand up. Are you?” Emma smiled, her argument triumphant. “Not to mention what might come up about you in the process. Somehow I suspect there is more to you than a simple pawnbroker. You really want to start that fight?”

 

Rumple inwardly rolled his eyes. He liked the challenges Emma provided, but damn if she wasn’t annoying and perhaps a touch too confident.

 

_That damn Charming confidence._

He saw it in both her mother and father. They saw themselves most of the time as so flawless. However, such confidence often blinded them and allowed him to do what he wished to them. Emma would provide an interesting challenge to him, but with any luck, she would fall curse to genetics as most children, he included, did.

“I like you, Miss Swan. You’re not afraid of me, and that’s either cocky or presumptuous. Either way, I’d rather have you on my side.”

 

“So, she can keep the baby,” Emma asked hopefully.

 

“Not. Just. Yet,” he quickly replied. “There’s still the matter of my agreement with Miss Boyd.”

 

_She may not be afraid of me, but she’s sure as hell not leaving here unscathed._

 

“Tear it up,” Emma simply stated.

 

“That’s not what I do. You see contracts… deals, well, they’re the very foundation of all civilized existence. So, I put it to you now. If you want Ashley to have that baby, are you willing to make a deal with me?”

 

Unafraid, Emma shrugged. “What do you want?”

 

Rumple smiled.

 

_Almost there._

 

“Well, I don’t know just yet.” He paused for dramatic effect and waved his hands. “You’ll owe me a favor,” he settled.

 

Emma hesitated for the barest moment before making her stand.

 

“Deal.” She stuck out her hand, and Rumple triumphantly met it.

 

_That beautiful Charming confidence._

 

Emma kept eye contact with the pawnshop owner for a few more seconds before turning around, excited to tell the new mother in the room that she would get to stay a mother.

 

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The deal was struck, and Rumple was positively giddy.

 

_The Savior is mine._

 

Emma’s favor had almost endless potential: Protection from angry townsfolk after the curse broke, the acquisition of dangerous magical artifacts, even perhaps some of her true love essence should she ever be able to harness it. Light magic like hers was difficult to come by, and now he had a source of it under his control.

 

Rumple ordered some takeaway from a restaurant near the hospital, and returned to his shop to celebrate. As he arrived at the front door, Rumple couldn’t help but grimace at his shoddy job covering up the windowpane.

 

_It seems like a call to Marco is in order._

For now, though, Rumple ignored the poor craftsmanship and moved to the back room to enjoy his dinner. He relaxed in his shop for a few hours, occasionally checking to see if there were any more pieces of merchandise ruined during his assault last night that he didn’t catch. Rumple was in the middle of his final search in the front room, and was returning to the back of the store when something caught his eye and he paused.

Leaned against the back of the counter was Miles’ wallet.

 

Suddenly, he thought back to their argument, and the fallout that Rumple knew he was probably in store for as soon as he entered the house. Even though Rumple would never admit it freely, he was just a bit nervous about coming home to Miles. The ex-pirate looked positively destroyed as Rumple yelled at him, and he hadn’t tried to contact him at all for the rest of the day. Not a day went by that Rumple didn’t get at least two texts from his husband, so the fact that the whole day passed without so much as a word from the other man unnerved him.

 

Rumple looked at the grandfather clock on his wall. It was late, and he knew he had to get home eventually, and that time was quickly approaching. Rumple wished he could justify staying at his shop to blow off steam, but even in their worst fights as a couple, they still fell asleep together, and Rumple needed to keep consistent with that in order to retain the low profile he had suffered so much thus far in order to keep. He gathered the wallet as well as everything else he wished to take home and closed up the shop, making a mental note to call the town handyman in the morning as he locked up. Rumple got into his car and began to brace himself for whatever awaited him when he next saw Miles.

 

With a sigh, Rumple started the ignition and left the comfort of the shop for home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading! Sorry that a lot of it was transcript-based. I don’t like doing these, but for an episode like this, there’s not much else that could’ve been done. I tried to add as much content as possible to keep it fresh though, so I hope you all enjoyed.
> 
> Please review. I would greatly appreciate the feedback. I work hard on these chapters, so some written compensation would be really nifty.
> 
> Don’t forget to add in a * at the end of your comments for a sneak peek of chapter 6!


	7. Why You Loved Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.
> 
> A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks to all who read the last chapter, and a special thanks to everyone who reviewed! You guys give me so much energy to keep this up. Sorry this chapter took so long to post. It was just kind of hellish to write. I know I say that a lot, and I hope I don’t come across as whining when I do, but honestly, I just have an easier and more fun time writing Rumple and Killian than I do Rumple and Miles. Rest assured though, I’m keeping up with the regiment of writing for it every day, and I promise, once the curse breaks, I’ll have updates a LOT more frequently. As I said before, there are some chapters that are practically done, aside from some editing, but are just not due to appear for anywhere from 10-20 chapters from now (This thing’s gonna be like, 50 chapters just to give you a ballpark), so when the time comes, your patience will be rewarded!
> 
> Sorry for the long info dump! The chapter is starting now! Enjoy!

It was about eleven at night when Rumple arrived back at the house. Their home was completely dark from the outside, not one light emanating from the pink and green house’s many windows, but Rumple didn’t discount the possibility that Miles might have been still awake. In the past, Rumple had come home only to see his husband snuggling on the couch, watching a movie or napping in the darkened sitting room. Not to mention, the front of the house provided no view of the bedroom or the basement, so Miles could just as easily be in either of those rooms.

 

There was also the possibility that Miles had simply abandoned the house for the night, though Rumple found himself hoping that wasn’t the case. His outburst at Miles had no doubt angered the cursed man, and if Rumple wanted things to stay normal, he needed to mend the issue before it got out of hand, lest he have much more attention drawn to him than was comfortable. The idea of the extra alone time was alluring, that was true, but the benefits paled in the face of the necessity of keeping Regina and everyone else off guard about his true identity, and much to Rumple’s dismay, the point still stood that Miles was his means of doing just that.

 

They had very few fights as a couple. Usually, it was just bickering or playful banter over minor disagreements. On the rare occasions where they had real, scream-inducing fights, it involved either Robert being too needlessly cruel when dealing with late payments on his properties or Miles hurting himself by acting too recklessly. The fights ranged in length from a few hours to a couple of days, and the longer ones were more often then not caused by Robert’s insistence on staying angry until he just couldn’t anymore. Still, they were never too harsh with each other as they fought; they shared the house, never gossiped about one another, and always exchanged “I love yous” before turning in for the night. However, Rumple couldn’t remember one fight with Miles that ever ended in either one’s face looking like Miles did before he left the pawnshop today. He honestly had no idea what to expect when they next saw each other.

 

As Rumple came into the house, the only sound that he could hear was the creaking of the door behind him. He did a quick examination of the floor he was on. All was quiet, and shortly after Rumple started looking, he came to the conclusion that Miles wasn’t on the floor. He gave the basement a quick glance, but all was quiet there too, leading him to the same assumption.

 

_I guess upstairs is the only option._

 

Rumple crept up the stairs, the creaking of the staircase kept to a minimum from the blond’s careful steps. When he got to the top step, he looked across the hallway that spanned both right and left of his position, and saw that the entire floor was darkened as well. He knew he could very well go about checking all the rooms on the floor, but he acknowledged that sooner or later, he was going to have to face the inevitable and go into the one room his husband would most likely be in.

 

The bedroom.

_No point delaying it anymore._

Rumple took a left and walked until he arrived at a somewhat ornate wooden door. He took a deep breath, and pushed it open.

When Rumple entered the bedroom, he wasn’t too surprised to see Miles asleep, his form curled up underneath the blankets. He skulked over to his husband’s nightstand and gently placed the lost wallet that rested in his coat pocket upon it before moving over to the other side of the room to change out of his clothes. Finally ready to sleep, Rumple crawled into bed, his back opposite Miles. His eyes slowly closed as the need to rest took dominance over him.

 

_I’ll deal with him in the morning._

 

“Rob,” Miles yawned, his eyes opening to focus on the man beside him.

 

_Or not._

 

_Oh well. Here goes nothing._

 

Rumple opened his eyes again, and turned around to face Miles.

 

“Miles,” he started. “I-,” he tried to continue, but was interrupted as Miles cupped his cheek with hand and placed a simple kiss upon Rumple’s lips.

 

“I’m sorry,” the black-haired man whispered, his eyes half open with a hopeful smile on his face.

 

**_HE’S_ ** _sorry?!_

 

Rumple lost focus for a second while Miles moved his hand from Rumple’s cheek to reach out to and hold his partner’s hand. Rumple flinched at the touch as his mind caught up with him, something Rumple usually did a much better job at masking. The flinch caused Miles’ optimistic smile to drop, and his eyes darkened as he took a more serious tone. “I should’ve given you some more space. I know you can take care of yourself, I really do. You’re always so strong and brave and sturdy. It’s just… when I saw you lying unconscious back at your shop this morning, it felt like my world was falling apart. I’ve lost a lot of people throughout my life, as you know.” Miles blinked, tears appearing at the corners of his eyes as they reopened. “I just didn’t want to add the love of my life to that list,” he spoke, choking back sobs.

 

Rumple bit his lip. For the first time, a realization he always secretly knew, but took much more pleasure in ignoring finally hit the point where it could be denied no longer:

 

Miles wasn’t Hook.

 

Yes, he shared a body with the captain, but this man had an entirely different existence from the pirate. Miles had never stolen Rumple’s wife, or deprived Baelfire of a mother. Miles was just a simple fisherman; a man who had been the victim of many tragedies, but still tried to be the best person he could for the people in his life that he still had. A man who loved Robert Gold with every beat of his heart and would do anything for him.

 

_Can I really fault Miles for being an entity that he doesn’t even know about?_

“I-I understand,” Rumple sighed. “You were just trying to help, and I… suppose I can’t hate you for that.”

 

_No, I can’t._

 

“Thank you,” Miles breathed, jubilantly hugging Rumple from underneath the sheets as he weakly returned it.

 

“Just in the future,” Rumple warned, moving his face to look directly at Miles again, “when I say I can handle something, trust me that I can do it.”

 

“Of course,” the younger man cried. “I know you can do anything. I really do. I guess I just needed a reminder of that.”

 

After a few moments, Rumple thought Miles drifted off to sleep in his embrace, as he usually did, and Rumple prepared to follow suit. However, just as he closed his eyes, Miles spoke. “Also,” Miles continued, much to Rumple’s surprise. “I’m proud of you.” Rumple’s eyes snapped open once again.

 

“Proud of me,” Rumple queried.

 

“Aye. For what you did for Ashley. You tried to understand her situation first before hurting her or her child. That took so much courage.”

 

Rumple became reminded of today’s adventure with Miss Boyd. The fool lying before him had no idea just how poorly he understood the situation.

 

_Of course, he’s not going to hear the truth from me._

 

“You’re amazing. I hope you know that, and I’m so lucky to have you.” The younger man took Rumple’s hand again, the resulting flinch this time being hidden much better. “I love you. Good night,” he finally bid the wizard before closing his eyes.

 

_Well, at least that’s over._

“I love you too,” Rumple droned. “Good night.” Rumple was relieved that without any interruption, he was finally able to fall asleep.

 

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After that night, Rumple began to find Miles much more tolerable to be around. Did that mean he enjoyed hugging, kissing, and sweet-talking the cursed pirate? No, of course not, but he no longer spent the first hour of his day seething about every little act of affection the two shared. He mostly just discarded them as the things he had to do to get Baelfire back, and tried not to think about them as he went on with his day.

 

In addition, the smiles that Rumple needed to give back to Miles whenever the younger man gave one of his own were returned just a bit more naturally. This was due in part to the fact that Rumple could admit to himself now that sometimes, the words that left his husband’s mouth were funny, insightful, or even clever.

 

_They were still mostly idiotic though._

 

The next few weeks passed by painlessly enough, with things more or less returning to normal. Rumple, for the most part, stayed on the sidelines again when it came to Emma Swan, but this time, he was far less afraid of showing his face around the Savior. He loved doing things like passing by her at Granny’s or in the supermarket, just as a means to remind Emma of the power he now held over her. There were the occasional adventures, such as the incident at the mines with Henry and Mr. Hopper and David Nolan’s welcome home party, but things for the time being stayed at a nice, slow pace.

 

Ah, David Nolan.

 

Rumple took an interest in the cursed prince. From the moment the man woke up from the coma, he seemed a bit between worlds. David had amnesia, and he heard Henry mention to Emma a theory that should he share a True Love’s Kiss with his love, Snow White, he might be freed of the curse. Henry was a smart boy, well aware of the curse, though thankfully, oblivious to Rumple’s identity. If the child had a theory about the world his adopted mother created, Rumple was quite inclined to believe him.

 

Rumple honestly didn’t know how to feel about it. On one hand, another force against Regina was always a good thing, and maybe having her father around could help Emma break the curse faster. On the other hand, though, Charming knew Rumple and the stunts he pulled back in the Enchanted Forest. That could be problematic for the wizard in more ways than one. The need to interfere was a debate that circled his mind plenty of times over the course of the quiet weeks.

 

Fortunately, the choice was made for Rumple a few nights ago, when David happened to stumble into his shop. The amnesiac was lost and entered the pawnshop in search of directions to the toll bridge. However, it seemed that David had received more than he bargained for, as a couple of glances at a windmill-shaped lawn ornament was all he needed for his cursed memories to return. The eyes that David came into the store with, confident and optimistic for the love of one Mary Margaret Blanchard were now showered with regret, confusion, and sorrow. Rumple found the chances of this sudden encounter and reemergence of Mr. Nolan’s memories quite odd, especially since he had a very good idea of the significance of the spot the vet was heading to. He suspected mischief afoot, and Regina likely the mastermind behind it. Rumple thought about taking any action against the Queen for some time before ultimately deciding to leave well enough alone.

_It’s probably for the best. If that fool got his memories back, he would’ve hindered my abilities to properly “motivate” the Savior. And I can’t have that, now can I?_

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One late Friday afternoon, Rumple was lounging around in his, as usual, empty shop when he heard a familiar chime emerge from his cell phone. A text from Miles greeted Rumple as he looked at the phone’s screen, much to the wizard’s lack of surprise. After all, who else texted him?

 

Rob, it looks like I’m going to be kept a bit late at the docks.

Would you be okay being in charge of dinner tonight?

I’ll take dish duty to make up for it! :D

Rumple looked at his watch. The shop was set to close in an hour, and he was confident in his assertion that no one was coming by the store for the remainder of that time span. Plus, the day so far had been littered with useless monotony, so a change of scenery sounded nice to Rumple right about now. He made the necessary preparations, and in a half hour, the shop’s door, adorned with a new windowpane courtesy of the town’s handyman Marco, was tightly locked. Rumple stopped by the local grocery store and bought two skirt steaks, a bag of potatoes, and a slew of vegetable before finally heading home.

 

Rumple was grateful to be in charge of preparing dinner tonight. Miles cooked well enough, but there were only so many consecutive nights that he could eat the catch of the day before shuddering at even the sight of a fish’s scale. After weeks of eating all manner or sea life, steak with mashed potatoes and salad sounded delicious to Rumple.

 

A couple of hours later, as Rumple put the finishing touches on dinner, he heard the familiar sound of the front door unlocking.

 

“Hey Rob,” Miles called from inside the front door. “Dinner smells great,” he said as he walked towards the kitchen. As Miles entered the kitchen, he got a look at Rumple’s back just as he was taking their steaks out of the oven. Such a moment provided Miles with a nice view of his husband’s best… assets. Obviously, Robert’s ass was quite the attraction in and of itself, well toned and nimble as it was, but that aside, he gazed at his forearms as they lifted the tray of steaks and glistened in the sunlight that passed through the kitchen’s windows. Miles freely admitted that his lover had beautiful arms, but the suits he was so fond of often obstructed them. Right now though, the suit jacket was gone and his sleeves were rolled up to a bit past his elbows. The whole sight just made Miles’ lust for his husband’s body rise like steam above a pot of boiling water. Feeling flirtatious, Miles sauntered over to his husband and put his arms loosely around Rumple’s waist, causing the older man to jump.

 

Rumple turned around, thankful that he managed to put dinner down before the hug commenced. When he did, he was greeted by a seductive face that reminded him oh too well about when Miles visited Rumple in his shop all those weeks ago. The desire was prevalent in his eyes, as he stared right into Rumple’s without the tiniest bit of fear. Miles licked his smirk-laden lips. “But it seems that the food is far from the only delicious thing around here, smelling or otherwise,” the cursed pirate purred close to Rumple’s ear.

 

A blush crept on Rumple’s face as he inwardly rolled his eyes. He wanted this over as soon as possible. The corny lines were really too much, and he wanted to serve and eat dinner while it was still piping hot. “Quit trying to be cute,” he joked, playfully putting a hand of Miles’ chest in an attempt to create space between them.

 

“You should know by now, Rob,” Miles said, pushing the two even closer together, Rumple’s hand now sandwiched between their stomachs. “I’m always cute.” Miles winked as he added, “and so are you.”

 

“Hungry,” Rumple asked, trying once more to distract Miles and himself from the intimate moment.

 

“Starved,” Miles breathed, pushing their lips together. Miles’ stub was pressed against the back of Rumple’s head, taking away the latter’s ability to break the kiss.

 

For Rumple, this kiss stood out from all the others the man had the displeasure of enduring since he got his memories back. It had a lot more passion and was rougher than their usual ones. It reminded him of the kisses they shared right before…

 

Rumple did not like where this was going.

 

Not. One. Bit.

 

“We haven’t had each other in so long,” Miles moaned, his arms caressing Rumple’s form as their embrace kept them close. ”And I know you’re just **dying** to ravage me.”

 

Rumple, all things considered, had put up with a lot from the curse, and was willing to do even more if it bettered the chances of tracking down his son. He had kissed Miles, indulged the pirate in make out session after make out session, and smiled at every sweet nothing the younger man whispered into his ear.

 

However, a line had to be drawn somewhere, and sex was **exactly** where Rumple’s willingness to appease the cursed pirate ended.

 

Rumple considered himself lucky that the day before his personal curse broke was the last time he and Miles had engaged each other so intimately. He barely remembered it, and was all-too willing to blame it on his self-hated alias, Robert Gold. At the same time, it created a nice buffer just in case Miles was to claim that he had felt deprived of his husband’s…company. Now though, it seemed that the buffer had run out, and if Rumple didn’t act fast, steak wouldn’t be the only meat on his plate tonight.

 

“Miles please,” Rumple beseeched, trying to pull back from Miles’ embrace. “Not tonight.” Miles instantly released Rumple, but kept their proximity, his face growing worried.

 

“Is everything alright? Did I do something wrong?”

 

“Not at all, dearie,” Rumple gulped. “I’m just not in the mood tonight. I… had a long day at the shop. Surely you can understand.”

 

Miles’ face appeared disappointed for all of a second before perking up. “Of course I do,” he answered, placing a much less sensual, though still very loving kiss on Rumple’s lips, with Rumple weakly returning the gesture. Miles gaze drifted to the trays and bowls of food cooling off on the stovetop. “Dinner looks great. I’ll help you set the table.”

 

Rumple released a sigh of relief, as he started taking plates out of a cupboard above him.

 

_Even the Dark One has his limits._

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Rumple sat on the couch in their sitting room. It was after dinner, and Miles was just finishing up cleaning the dishes, freeing Rumple up to watch the news on the television set. The top story of the evening was how Sheriff Graham had just suffered a heart attack. While the best doctors in town were currently examining the sheriff, the man was not expected to survive.

 

_How tragic._

_I wonder if there’s a good movie on tonight._

 

“Mind if I sit, love?” Rumple looked behind him to see Miles quickly approaching. He put up a fake smile and nodded. Miles sat on the cushion beside Rumple, but to the older man’s surprise, didn’t get any closer. Usually, when they were on the couch like this, it came with the cursed pirate snuggling into his side, rubbing his belly, putting an arm around him, or some other form of intimate touching that made Rumple’s stomach queasy. But right now, all he was doing was sitting with no physical contact whatsoever. Miles was looking at the TV, but definitely not paying attention; he was practically staring through the screen. Rumple, honestly was getting a bit nervous. The rest of his face and body were no better, usually relaxed features were replaced by tense legs and arms that looked like he would run out of the room at any second and bit lips. The biggest indicator however came from how Miles was fiddling with his hand and stub. His hand massaged the brace of the stub, as if the stub were a frightened squirrel. Rumple understood his husband well enough to know that that was a habit only reserved for when Miles was afraid or insecure.

 

_What is going on with him? This **can’t** have been about what happened before dinner. _

 

“Dearie,” Rumple started hesitantly, tapping Miles on the shoulder. The younger man, now snapped out of the trance he put himself in, looked at Rumple, his eyes nervous. “Is everything alright?”

 

Miles looked at him, and sighed. “Honestly? No.”

 

“It this about earlier today? I’m not going to apologize for that, you know.”

 

Miles eyes widened. “No,” he shouted, reaching his good hand to squeeze Rumple’s knee assuringly. “Of course not! I don’t blame you for that. You weren’t in the mood, and that’s fine. Never think you’re wrong for saying no. It’s not about that, or not really at least. It’s just the thing that finally tipped me off.”

                                                                                   

“Tipped you off about what exactly?”

 

“You’ve been uncomfortable around me,” he stated bluntly, never drifting his eyes away from Rumple’s.

 

_Oh shit._

“Whatever do you mean?”

 

_This cannot be happening. Not after everything I’ve done. I was so careful._

 

Miles gave Rumple a look. A look that told him that Miles wasn’t about to buy any of his husband’s attempts at trickery tonight.

 

“Rob, I love you. I wear and will wear for the rest of my life a ring that promises I will do as much. I know you well enough to know when you’re off, and you, my dear, are off. You flinch when I touch you, as well as you usually do to hide it. You barely return the kisses I give you, and I can’t even remember the last time you kissed me. I’m just worried.”

 

“Miles,” Rumple started, but was quickly interrupted.

 

“Don’t give me excuses Rob. I can tell you haven’t been the same lately,” Miles stated. “…and I think I know why it is.” A warm, understanding smile grew on his face, and his hand and stub cupped Rumple’s right hand.

 

Rumple froze. Miles thought he knew what it was? What the **hell** did he think it was? It couldn’t have been that he knew about the curse, for if that were the case, a much more sinister, malicious smile would replace the bright one he currently wore.

 

“And that would be,” Rumple asked, trying to keep any notion of nervousness out of his voice and body language as his face became stoic.

 

Miles got uncomfortable again, his smile dropping, and his thumb separating from his hand to touch his brace. “It’s approaching that time of year again… the anniversary of the accident with Oliver and Lara is coming up. I figured you’d probably be a bit uncomfortable, but I suppose I wasn’t prepared for how that discomfort would make itself known. Don’t get me wrong; they were your wife and son after all, and you have every right to feel as you do. We’re married, but it’s not like they ceased to a part of you after they died.” The younger man cast his eyes to the floor, finding trouble keeping his nerve as he dared to approach such a sensitive topic. “I can imagine around this time of year, it’s quite hard to believe you can, or even should, be happy, especially with someone else, knowing that they’re not here to share in that happiness, and I don’t blame you for it in the slightest.” Feeling braver, Miles looked up at Rumple’s eyes again, and held the older man’s hand tighter. “I guess when it comes down to it, I just want to let you know that I’ll be here if and when you want to talk, and until, during, and long after that, you have my forever.”

 

Rumple’s jaw slacked in shock. Of course, Miles was far from correct about the reason for their lack of romance. Still, Miles knew and cared enough about his husband that he was able to make a very astute, albeit incorrect, observation. Even **he** forgot that in this world, the anniversary of the death of his family was only mere weeks away, but Miles cared not only enough to remember, but think about any emotional struggles his husband would have around the time. Rumple would die before admitting it, but Miles’ words touched him.

 

“…Thank you,” Rumple said in almost a whisper. Rumple coughed, his voice returning to normal. “It may take some time before I don’t flinch at things like touching and intimacy again, but knowing you’re here… helps. I’ll try to be more receptive if you’ll be patient with me.”

 

“If it takes eternity, I’ll wait. I’m still going to hold you though, and kiss you, and sing your praises as a bard does to his lord. I want you to feel every bit as loved as you deserve to be, and trust me love, that’s a lot.”

 

“I guess I shouldn’t expect anything less from you,” Rumple joked.

 

“If I ever **give** you anything less, feel free to divorce me,” Miles teased right back. He turned his attention to the television set, oblivious to the previous story about the soon-to-be deceased sheriff. “Now let’s see if there’s a good movie on tonight.”

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

“Tell me a story about your boy,” Miles requested. It was hours later, and the self-imposed barrier from physical contact that Miles had made earlier came crashing down mere moments after the comforting conversation. Rumple was sitting rigidly on their couch in the sitting room, trying not to look down at Miles, who was lying down on the couch, his head resting on Rumple’s lap as he toyed with the blond strands of the older man’s hair, the movie _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea_ playing in the background, completely forgotten by the very man who suggested it. While Rumple did appreciate Miles’ concern for him earlier, the awe of the moment had settled within a half hour and the awkwardness of all these touches had worked its way back into fruition.

 

“Excuse me,” Rumple asked, finally looking down to meet Miles’ eyes.

 

“You haven’t told me a story about Oliver in some time, and I’m reasonably sure you haven’t told me everything about him. So come on, out with a new one.”

 

Rumple hesitated. No matter the world, no matter the state of his memories, no matter who was listening, the subject of his son was still a sensitive subject. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go into much detail about him, especially now that he knew there was still a large chance Baelfire was alive. Captain Hook could just as easily use anything he told Miles as ammunition when the curse broke. Still, Miles had asked for a story, and Rumple needed to give him **something**.

 

_Well, I doubt Hook could do much with a pleasant story._

 

“When B-,” Rumple paused, correcting himself, “Oliver was eight years old, I took him to… a living museum.” Miles raised his eyebrow, questioningly. “You know, those history museums where you got to do the activities that people did back in those days, like churning butter or writing on slates.” Finally understanding, Miles nodded, and gestured for him to proceed with a wave of his hand.

 

“Anyway,” Rumple said, continuing, “One of those activities was spinning straw into thread. I had gone to this museum a lot as a boy, so I taught Oliver how to do it myself. The look in his eyes as I spun faster and faster, by his command, they were so full of pride. In that moment, I felt like I could do anything. What was even better was when he took over. He was just as good as I was, and with a bit of time, he almost surpassed me.”

 

Miles grinned. “I bet that must’ve made you the proudest father in the world.”

 

“It did,” Rumple breathed wistfully. “I think about him everyday; I think about how he would’ve gone to school, and spent his weekends playing in the park, or helping me in the shop, or any number of things.” Rumple looked down, glaring at the floor. “That accident,” he said pausing. “When I lost him, it was the worst moment of my life. Everything I’d ever done, I’d done for him, and it was all for nothing.”

 

For a brief moment, the lines between the Enchanted Forest and Storybrooke were nonexistent.

 

“Rob,” Miles consoled, pulling himself up and looking straight into Rumple’s eyes, his hand atop his husband’s knee. “You didn’t cause that accident; a drunk driver did. It was something that no one on the planet could’ve seen coming.”

 

_Remember yourself, Rumple. In this world, Baelfire died in a car accident. Not because you’re a fucking coward._

 

“Then why does it feel like I failed him as a father?”

 

“Honestly,” Miles asked. Rumple nodded. “It’s precisely **because** you’re his father. Oliver could’ve died from anything, and you would’ve still blamed yourself. I may have never had a child, but I know that whatever it was that ended my son or daughter’s life, whether it be from eating a poisonous plant or a meteor falling out of the sky and hitting him while I was countries away, I would always feel partially responsible for it. And all the psychologists, doctors, or whoever else could tell me I wasn’t, but I’d never believe them.”

 

The two got quiet for a few moments, staring at the television. No attention was actually paid towards the actions on the screen, but for the moment, it was more comfortable than facing each other. Miles was worried that maybe he’d pushed too far or said something that he had no right saying in the first place. He had never been a parent, so what right did **he** have to say how a parent would or should react? And what if his speech, however well intentioned, had sent his partner into an even deeper stage of grief? This talk was the first time Robert had opened up to him in over a month, and he didn’t want the walls that were finally going back down to rebuild themselves. Miles wanted to make it right, and to do that, he knew he had to overcome the awkward silence between them and continue the conversation.

 

“Thank you for telling me,” Miles softly spoke.

 

Rumple looked into Miles’ sky-blue eyes. Nothing but pure sincerity stared back at him, and he couldn’t find it within himself to deny the man some of the sentiment in return. “Thank you for listening. It feels like forever since I’ve been able to talk or even think about my boy without pain and regret shooting through my chest. It’s nice to talk about our good times. It hurts not having my son around, but when I think about moments like those, I realize that I didn’t do the worst job with him.”

 

“Well, I’m always here if you want to share more of them.” Miles squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, and for the first time since becoming curse free, Rumple didn’t so much as flinch at the touch.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading! I thought it would be fun to have a few smaller scenes bunched together. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading! Please review, and put an * at the end of your review for a sneak peak of the next chapter!


	8. The Real Running Mates- Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.
> 
> A/N: Hi!!!!! Sorry for the delay! Over the past nearly two months, I graduated from college, met my half siblings for the first time, have been applying for jobs, got my wisdom teeth out, AND helped plan my aunt and uncle’s 25th wedding anniversary party, just to name the biggest things. So yeah, real life has been very busy lately. At the same time, I got some severe writer’s block, so that wasn’t very helpful either. 
> 
> In any case, I sincerely apologize for taking so long to update and I hope my absence can be forgiven. I was still working on this fic everyday, as promised, but a lot of the time, it was for future chapters or just general editing. This is why I don’t promise specific update days or times, in case anyone was wondering. I refuse to let the quality of my work be diminished for the sake of a deadline, and I won’t allow this to take precedence over real life. I love this fic, I really do or I wouldn’t be updating it everyday, but please understand that I’m entering a period of my life where I’m going to need to dedicate a lot of time to finding and maintain both a career and the meaningful relationships in my life. 
> 
> I thank you for understanding and want you all to know that I love you all for sticking by me.
> 
> On a more positive note, I’m pleased to announce that my AO3 account is now completely in sync with the Fanfiction.net account, and new chapters will be available at the same time on both sites, so, feel free to read wherever you prefer. That also means that chapters 4 through the present are all fully edited, and hopefully, better for it! Again, no important story changes were made, but the opportunity to spread my work allowed me to edit some mistakes that I made when I first posted the chapters.
> 
> Well, after the long wait, let’s get right on to it! Enjoy!

Miles Gold knew from the moment he woke up that it was going to be a long, trying day.

 

Little over five days ago, he learned of a horrible tragedy; a brave, fair, and honest man, Graham Humbert, was dead. After countless years of dedicated service to the small town of Storybrooke, the sheriff’s life was taken by a heart attack, and today was the man’s funeral. The town seemed to shut down in the wake of the loss, and no more was that the case than for the town’s final sendoff to the beloved sheriff. Miles’ boss gave the entire staff the day off so that they could observe Graham’s funeral, and it seemed like most of the rest of the town’s supervisors followed suit; the drive to the church showed as much with all manner of people walking, driving, and everything in between were seen busying the streets as he and Rumple headed in the same direction.

 

Gloom seemed to all but permeate the air as the pair entered the rustic church. The faces of the townspeople bled displeasure and sadness, the sky was cloudy, though thankfully not rainy, and even the church itself seemed darker than usual. While the couple could see fine, the room still felt dimly lit; the sparkling chandelier that hung atop the church seemed so much less bright than usual. Most of the light as well as the attention in the room was drawn in the general direction of two candles that sat upon brass candelabras in front of the deceased sheriff’s casket.

 

They slowly made their way over to the ornate, solid oak casket, thankful that they arrived before much of the crowd that was inevitably soon to follow. Miles rested his stub over the casket as he softly began to speak.

 

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, for Rob, and for everyone in Storybrooke through the years. You were a great mate, a fine officer, and a true hero.” As Miles said his last comments, he looked over to his husband, reminiscing about the last encounter the three of them shared. Rumple, taking the hint, took hold of Miles’ hand, nodded at the man in the casket, and gently ushered he and his partner to seats towards the back corner of the church. Rumple had made an effort ever since their conversation a few weeks ago to show Miles more displays of love. It was nothing too affectionate, but he deemed it was enough to prevent Miles from ever doubting his act again.

 

The ceremony started a half hour after their visit to the casket. The church quickly filled up after the two were seated. Every seat was taken, and some individuals even needing to stand in order to get any kind of view at of the funeral at all. Many people went up to the podium and talked about all the ways that Graham had influenced their lives, with two of them being Regina and Emma. The former made a speech attempting to sound as professional as possible, a fitting choice for some someone in her position. That latter’s speech was much more quiet and subdued but with a touch more personality. Emma thanked Graham for giving her the job of deputy, taking care of her son, and even helping Emma meet a few townspeople; her eyes shifted towards Miles as she made that final point.

 

After the ceremony, the people in the church were directed to the other side of town where the graveyard that would host the sheriff’s final resting place was located. The crowds that took to the streets, both on foot and by vehicle, after the service ended were enormous, and made the ten minute drive take close to a half hour.

 

There was a huge crowd surrounding Graham’s gravestone when Rumple and Miles finally arrived, and still with about ten minutes to spare before the dropping of the casket started. The couple found a spot in the front of the proceedings, and looked around at some of the people who made up the inner circle, all of whom were present at the church earlier.

 

On one end stood Regina and Henry Mills. Regina looked horribly shaken. Her eyes were noticeably puffy from crying and she seemed very shaken and off-balance. And Henry? The lad’s eyes were unmoving and focused on the ground in a scowl. His small hands were balled up into fists. Miles wouldn’t describe him as cold or stoic, but rather as someone trying to repress any emotion that wasn’t soul-crushingly negative.

 

Across from them, Miles saw Emma and Mary Margaret standing together. Emma looked about as well as Regina physically, but while Regina kept to herself, the blonde was a bit more socially invested. Emma kept trying to get Henry’s attention with Mary Margaret’s help, but the boy seemed all too willing to ignore them. Something unusual that Miles noticed that despite obviously wishing to communicate with the boy, Emma refused to actually talk to him. It was almost as if she wanted to avoid someone else while still making contact with Henry.

_Who the hell would want to stop those two from talking?_

 

The question rattled on in Miles’ brain for a bit before he could reach only one conclusion, as far-fetched as it seemed.

_Regina?_

_But why would Regina try to stop Emma and Henry from talking? She’s never been someone to do something like that!_

 

It was so peculiar. Regina always seemed to be someone who was a lifter of spirits; far from the source of despair the evidence was pushing Miles to believe she was. She always had this large smile on her face whenever she saw him, and she practically adored he and his husband as a couple, her large smile somehow even growing every time she saw them together. She was strict, sure, but hell, she was mayor and a mother, so that was to be expected.

 

Still, the possibility that Regina was the cause of Emma’s lack of success reaching the boy only grew in merit as he saw her continue, in vain, to try to catch Henry’s eye. In addition to Emma’s frustration concerning her inability to make contact with Henry, Miles could tell her overall demeanor just screamed of sadness. Just by the fact that Graham was someone that she hung out with enough to the point where he took her to a crime scene and trusted her to comfort a stranger went to show how strong the connection the two of them had was, and thus, how much harder his death would’ve been, and evidently was, on her. Besides, she hadn’t lived in this town for very long. He couldn’t imagine that she had many friends, so that probably made it even worse, and now she couldn’t even talk with her son!

 

Miles knew he had to do something to help ease her pain. She was so helpful the other week when Robert was in trouble, and after everything that she had been through, she deserved better. He thought momentarily, only to suddenly pause as a plan emerged from the recesses of his mind.

 

“Rob,” Miles whispered. “Want to do me a favor?” Rumple hummed curiously as he looked at the cursed pirate. “Go over to Regina and talk to her, at least until the casket dropping starts.”

 

“Not that I’ve any objections, but why do you want me to do that?”

 

“I just feel like she could use a distraction from everything going on, and who’s better for that job than you,” Miles explained coyly, as his eyes signaled Rumple towards Emma. Miles knew his husband was a smart man. With just a couple of glances, he was confident that his lover would figure out the plan.

 

His assumption was proven correct less than a minute later.

 

“I always say when you’re right, you’re right, Miles, and you are right. I think I should do just that.” Rumple winked at his husband, a genuine yet no less maniacal grin appearing on his face as he started to make his way towards the town’s “beloved” mayor.

 

At the same time, Miles moved towards the two roommates, an idea prevalent in his mind.

 

“Hey Henry,” Miles called as he arrived next to Emma. Henry looked up, a glum look still on his face as he nodded at the man. Miles tugged at Emma’s shirt, which within seconds, tipped her off to the new opportunity he presented her with.

 

“Henry,” Emma sighed, exasperatedly, “Please talk to me.”

 

Henry looked over his shoulder at his adopted mother, ready to hear another speech about how she had no right to talk to Henry. Instead, he saw her engaged in conversation with Mr. Gold, conveniently facing the other way. Henry sighed. He really wanted to stay away from Emma, and he hoped that his mother would serve to help him accomplish that. Now however, it seems like fate had other plans.

 

“Emma, please,” Henry begged. “You have to stay away from me. She killed Graham. She’ll do the same to you too.”

 

“Kid, I’m not leaving, and your mom didn’t kill Graham. He died of a heart attack. Dr. Whale said so himself in the autopsy. Besides,” she huffed. “I can take care of myself, and I’m going to prove it to you.”

 

“Emma,” he whined, but said nothing else. If the boy had learned anything about his birth mother over the past few months of having her in town, it was that she never knew when to quit. But he couldn’t let her be the Queen’s next victim, so for now, separation would have to happen. Emma only stayed in the town for him. Maybe if he backed off her enough, pretended to settle for Regina, she would leave on her own.

 

…Right?

 

Well, for now it would have to be. Henry’s repointed his focus back to the hole in the soft grass where Graham would soon rest forevermore.

 

“Henry,” Emma sighed. She knew that was the last of his attention he would spare her for the day. Still, she was glad she got that much. It was better than nothing.

 

“Thanks Miles,” she said, smiling up at him.

 

“You’re quite welcome,” he replied, returning the smile. Emma’s eyes narrowed as she looked back at her son, something not lost on Miles. “Don’t worry about the lad. A bit of time, and he’ll come around.”

 

“I’m going to show him. I’m acting sheriff right now, and he’s gonna see that I’m not going to take any of Regina’s bullshit. Graham freed the sheriff’s office of her control, and I’m not letting what he did be for nothing.”

 

“If you don’t mind me asking, why do you dislike Regina so much?”

 

“You don’t?”

 

“I’ve never had a problem with her. She’s always been really sweet to Rob and I.”

 

Emma raised an eyebrow. Someone Regina was actually **nice** to? It was quite the surprise to say the least.

 

“For one thing, Henry doesn’t trust her,” she replied, her gaze shifting to Henry. “For another, it’s like she gets her kicks out of making everyone’s lives here as miserable as possible, and she bullies anyone who so much as disagrees with her. She’s threatened Archie, Mary Margaret, and I. She also set me up to be arrested, had me blacklisted from Granny’s Inn, and manipulated me so that I called Henry crazy to his face.”

 

“That’s terrible,” he breathed.

 

Forget terrible! It was even crueler than Miles could’ve ever imagined!

 

At first, he thought that Regina’s recent anger might’ve been due to some insecurity towards meeting Henry’s birth mother and having said mother now be in their lives. That would be understandable, though not excusable. However, this apparently reached to other people as well, **and** she made strives to cause emotional, mental, and even financial pain to Emma, which only made it worse! What was going **on** with her, and why was he only learning about this now?

 

“Someone needs to talk to her, or do something about this. Let me,” he insisted. “We’re friends so maybe I can figure out what’s wrong with her.” Emma couldn’t help but notice the way Miles’ face wrinkled with melancholy and disappointment. She found herself tempted to actually allow him to talk to Regina, that he maybe **could** do some good for her, when suddenly, her son’s words from their brief conversation started to ring in her ear. They were kind of silly and still a product of his delusions, or so she thought at least, but the sentiment was clear as day.

 

He wanted to protect her.

 

She thought about Miles. Here he was, a likeable man who lived a genuinely happy existence with his husband. Granted, the only time she had talked to him before was when his husband’s life was in danger, but she was confident that that was an anomaly among many happy moments. Everyone else in this town just seemed miserable, or incomplete in some way, but Miles seemed to really like his life and somehow was both outside of and oblivious to Regina’s wrath. Something told her that if she started hanging around Miles too much and involving him in her efforts against the mayor, it wouldn’t be that way for long.

 

_Could I put him in the line of fire like that?_

 

Still, Miles was a grown man and someone who cared about her. She owed him some trust that he could make a well-informed opinion of his own as well as deal with the consequences of said opinions.

 

Emma sighed internally.

 

_What to do? What to do?_

 

“No,” she said, unintentionally mouthing her decision. “Don’t do that. She doesn’t seem like the type to talk about her feelings too easily anyways, even to friends. Just let things play out for now before doing anything, okay?”

 

Miles hesitated, but ultimately nodded. “I can agree to that.” The desire to lighten up the mood from the dark conversation high, the black-haired man smirked. “Now, want me to tell you about how I bested Graham in a donut-eating contest one time? Cops these days: They can’t handle their liquor and they can’t handle their confections either.”

 

Emma perked up. “Now that’s something I want to hear.”

 

Mary Margaret chose that moment to pipe in.

 

“That makes two of us,” she joked.

 

And Miles did. He told Emma and Mary Margaret a couple of stories about his brief adventures with Graham before the casket dropping and quite a few afterwards. Rumple, who lost Regina’s attention when the casket dropping started, and lost her presence after the ceremony ended, got to enjoy a comfortable silence while watching his husband and the loft mates converse for the next hour. It was only when Miles saw him sitting alone in the distance did he excuse himself to go spend time with the blond and return home.

 

There were no living family members of Graham, so no service was held after the funeral. Miles could tell that the town was still emotionally distraught from the events, but now in a better position to move on. Emma would handle the duties as sheriff, and while the death of such a noble man would forever affect the town, Miles knew Storybrooke would be in good hands.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

It was on an early morning two weeks later when Rumple next saw Emma Swan, the bronze bell by the door of his shop ringing as the young woman made her way inside. Rumple smirked from the back room as he heard her call his cursed name.

 

“Gold.”

 

Rumple, still out of sight to the blonde, practically ignored her as he continued to paint a set of knickknacks he decided needed a new cover of lanolin. He had called her over here for reasons she had yet to learn. While it was nothing the young woman needed to be nervous about at all, Rumple was bored and wanted to have some fun with his pawn.

 

“You in here,” she asked impatiently as she continued to warily scan the shop for any sight of the pawnbroker.

 

“Well, it is my shop,” he muttered as said shop owner continued to prepare himself for this new encounter with the Savior.

 

After another moment, Emma at last peeked her head into the cluttered back room. Upon seeing Rumple, she fully walked in. When the smell of the lanolin permeated her nose, she grimaced and took a step back.

 

“Whoa,” she spoke. “What **is** that?”

 

“It’s lanolin,” Rumple simply replied. “Used for waterproofing.”

 

She was unable to keep the overwhelming feeling of disgust out of her voice or off her face. “It smells like livestock.”

 

“Well,” Rumple stated matter-of-fact, “it is the reason why sheep’s wool repels water.”

 

Emma’s grimace did not fade.

_I hope Henry’s “savior” doesn’t need a good sense of smell._

 

“It stinks. Um, if there was a reason you called the sheriff’s department, if you want to talk about that quickly or outside.”

_Please, for the love of hot cocoa and cinnamon on a cold winter’s day, let’s go outside. I’ll take my chances with pneumonia, just spare my nose anymore of this crap._

 

“Yes,” Rumple replied quickly. “I just wanted to, uh, express my condolences really. The sheriff was a good man. I didn’t really get a chance to talk to you during the funeral the other week, but I wanted to do so now.”

 

Emma’s eyes darkened at the mention of her dead friend. Apparently, even after two weeks, Graham’s death still affected many of Storybrooke’s citizens, Emma included. Next to Mary Margaret, the sheriff was the Savior’s best friend, and the two, from what he understood were on the cusp of a relationship when the man suffered that unusual, oh-so-poorly-timed heart attack. Rumple admitted that the deceased sheriff was far from the worst denizen in the town. He treated everyone fairly, was very professional and quick to the task, had compassion to spare, and was even one of the more civil people with Rumple when it came to matters of rent collections on his apartment.

 

Just before Rumple was to talk to Emma about the matter of the sheriff’s possessions, he noticed something not quite right with her choice of accessories.

 

“You’re still wearing the deputy’s badge,” he observed. Emma looked at the badge on her belt.

_Of **course** he has to notice that._

 

“Well, he’s been gone two weeks now. And I believe that after two weeks of acting as sheriff, the job becomes yours.” Emma stayed silent, nervous. “You’ll have to wear the real badge.”

 

“Yeah,” Emma sullenly agreed. “I guess. I’m just not in a hurry. So, um thank you for your kind words, and give my best to Miles. Uh, he was great at the funeral, so, tell him I said thanks again.”

 

“Of course.” Rumple still found himself both impressed and amused at Miles’ plan to get Emma and her boy to connect. It was an intelligent strategy on Miles’ part and Rumple always took pleasure in one-upping Regina, the vixen who cursed them both so maliciously, whenever he could. Besides, the friendship blooming between Miles and Emma could come in handy some time in the future.

 

Emma made her way to leave. She had just exited the back room when Rumple found it best to finally bring up his real purpose for contacting Emma.

 

“I have his things.”

 

“What,” the woman asked.

 

“The sheriff,” Rumple clarified, pulling a big brown box up from behind the counter. “He rented an apartment that I own. Another reason for my call, really: I wanted to offer you a keepsake. Miles suggested it, actually, but it seemed like a nice gesture, so I figured I’d make the offer.”

 

“Tell Miles I said thanks for the thought, but I don’t need anything,” Emma sighed.

 

“As you wish. I’ll give them to mayor Mills. It seemed like she was the closest thing he had to family.”

 

“I’m not sure about that,” Emma snorted, turning back.

 

Rumple smirked. “No love lost there, I see. Look,” he said, opening the box. “I fear that all of his stuff is headed directly to the trash bin. You really should take something.” The two had a bit of back and forth before finally, Emma agreed to take a set of walkie-talkies after Rumple pulled the Henry card, saying they could play together.

_Jeez! He’s just as manipulative as the kid!_

 

Honestly though, Emma **did** want something of Graham’s, as dumb as the idea of sentiment was to her. They were close, and it would be nice to have something to remember someone who believed in her so much by. Plus, Henry needed to know that even though life wasn’t like a fairy tale, real heroes, heroes like Graham, existed, and maybe the walkie-talkies were just the things she could use to give Henry that perspective. So, she took the devices and made her way out of the pawnshop.

 

Rumple’s eyes dropped as the blonde left the store. Watching Emma come here, and try to make the best decisions possible for her boy made Rumple’s heart weep for the love of his own son. The life he lived right now wasn’t an easy one, and it only got worse whenever he saw Emma and Henry together, whether it be through good times or bad times. Those moments reminded him of everything he lost that night, over three hundred years ago, when he sold out his son in the name of power. Times like these made Rumple more eager, more anxious, and more impatient to break the curse than all the nights spent unwittingly cuddling with Miles put together.

 

“I promise Bae,” Rumple muttered as he brought the box of Graham’s possessions into the back room. “I’ll find you, and make things right between us. Even if it takes the rest of eternity, I’ll make sure you know how much I love you.”

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

The early afternoon sun glimmered off the pawnshop's sign when Rumple heard the loud anthem that was his cell phone ringtone sound off. He didn’t even look at the screen before answering.

 

“Hello Miles.”

 

“Hey Rob. You hear about the latest piece of bullshit to hit Storybrooke?”

 

Rumple smirked, unable to hide his amusement.

_Looks like I’m not the only one to notice the commodity that’s this town’s bullshit levels._

 

“Aside from the many other issues that constantly plague this town? Afraid it passed my attention.”

 

“Emma texted me earlier,” he said, practically shouting. “She said Regina’s not letting her take up the position of sheriff! Instead, she’s giving the job to her puppet Sidney. Can you believe this?”

 

Rumple’s eyes narrowed.

_Should’ve anticipated as much from Regina. She may make things easy sometimes, but she’s not completely mindless._

 

“Rob? You listening?”

 

Rumple snapped out of his thoughts. “Sorry, dear. All ears.”

 

“I don’t get it. Regina is normally so nice to us. Now, I'm hearing that she’s being rude to Emma and, well, everyone really. She’s even threatened her! What the hell happened to her? Want to find out what’s going on? I think she’ll talk to you.”

 

Rumple grimaced. Yes, Regina is and always has been unnaturally kind to the couple in comparison to the rest of the town. While he was Robert Gold, he assumed it was because she felt that she could enjoy the friendship of two of the smarter and non-judgmental people in Storybrooke. However, that all changed when he got his memories back. It didn’t take Rumple long to realize that Regina’s smile weren’t out of kindness. They were out of laughter; she was getting a kick out of seeing the two of them in such an ironic position. Every moment she spent with them, to her, was just another reminder of how well her curse, her revenge had turned out! It made Rumple seethe with anger every time he encountered the Queen and swear his revenge as if it was his life’s new ambition.

 

Needless to say, he doubted talking to her would do a damn thing.

 

A magic free-for-all on the other hand would be a different story.

 

_Now **that** will be a glorious day. _

 

“I don’t know about that,” Rumple answered, “but I do agree that something should definitely be done about her attitude. I’ll see what I can do, but for now, you should get back to work. Catch us something good for dinner.”

 

“You know I always do,” Miles joked. “I’ll see you tonight. Love you!”

 

“Love you too,” Rumple murmured, sounding barely more excited than a child falling asleep in math class, before he hung up the phone.

_I don’t know why I expected anything different, but never mind that._

_It appears that I have some reading to do._

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Rumple stepped out of his car, parked a few blocks from Emma and Mary Margaret’s loft, a large white binder nestled in the crook of his left arm. Miles was out for drinks with Leroy and Dr. Whale tonight, much to Rumple’s relief. Of course, he could’ve lied about why he needed to leave the house so late at night with the knowledge that Miles would believe any excuse he made up, but it was nice knowing that there would be no risk of his husband asking to come along. Tonight’s quest involved a bit of playing dirty, and if there was one thing Miles rarely succumbed to, it was fighting unfairly.

_Very much unlike his otherworldly persona._

 

Rumple could make out the sound of heavy rock music playing from the loft as he watched Mary Margaret make her way into the building.

_Sounds like someone’s angry._

 

He waited a few moments before he slowly began to climb the stairs up to the loft, listening briefly to the conversation between the two roommates until he heard the six words that boosted his confidence of the increased influence he would soon hold over her.

 

“I just want to beat her.” It was said so softly, that he just barely made it out. But there it was: Proof that, for the moment, she’d do whatever it takes to have a leg over Regina, even if it means giving Rumple a leg over her.

 

Rumple smiled and finally knocked on the door.

 

“Good evening Miss Swan,” he greeted as the soon-to-be Savior came into view. “Sorry for the intrusion. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.” Emma looked back at her friend who quickly dismissed herself.

_Fear. Just what I like to see._

 

Emma welcomed Rumple in as Mary Margaret scurried off elsewhere. The blonde looked noticeably flushed, probably the result of quite a few shots of the drink sitting atop the loft’s counter.

_This should make things easy._

 

_And is that...a toaster...?_

 

_…_

 

Rumple sighed.

 

_Hey, I won’t judge what she does with her weeknights._

 

“I, uh, I heard about what happened from Miles. Such an injustice.”

 

“Yeah,” Emma shrugged. “Well, as I told him, what’s done is done.”

 

“Spoken like a true fighter,” Rumple snipped casually.

 

“I don’t know what chance I have. She’s mayor, and I’m… Well… me.”

 

"I don't think that. Neither does Miles. Neither does Mary Margaret. And neither did Graham."

 

"Well, despite what you all think, or thought, I'm sincerely doubting my ability to beat Madam Mayor."

 

“Miss Swan, two people with a common goal can accomplish many things. Two people with a common enemy… can accomplish even more. How would you like a benefactor?” Rumple’s eyes gleamed, a sickening stare directed towards Emma that, had it been towards anyone else, would’ve made them flinch or grow goose bumps in a flash.

 

“A benefactor?”

 

Rumple figured it was time to pull out his trump card. He asked to sit, and when allowed, he sat down and showed Emma the white binder.

 

“You know, it really is quite shocking how few people read the town charter.”

 

“The town charter,” Emma asked unbelievingly.

 

“Well, it’s quite comprehensive. And the mayor’s authority,” he asked, his voice as soft as the fur of a rabbit. “Well, maybe she’s not quite as powerful as she seems.” From there on, Rumple discussed his plan to host an election for the town’s sheriff. Emma seemed quite reluctant at first, but the more Rumple talked, the more Rumple preyed upon Emma’s hatred for the mayor, the more receptive Emma found herself becoming. They conversed for nearly two hours, planning the announcement of Emma's discovery and intentions to campaign before Rumple finally left the loft.

 

All the stars seemed to be aligning for him and victory was going to be sweet.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Regina stomped her feet, sporting a dangerous glare, as she marched towards Gold’s Pawnshop. The townspeople stared, but she was unconcerned. That jackass had done it again! Just when victory was in her grasp, he just **had** to come along with all this “candidate” nonsense. Emma had told her about it by herself at the press conference, but Regina knew better. There was no way that blonde would’ve read anything unless she was pushed in the right direction, and none of the simpletons that inhabited her town would’ve so much as **glanced** at that charter.

 

None except for him.

 

It had been months and Regina still wasn’t confident whether or not Gold had his memories back yet. His behavior was quite reminiscent of the man she had spent twenty-eight years living in the same town with, but lately, he teased more. He used that dreadful “please” clause much more often than usual lately, his eyes held that same glint at times as the intolerable imp once had, and for some time now, he just seemed crueler. She didn’t know how else to describe it, but Gold, prior to the last few months, was just noticeably nicer in his methods of getting what he wanted out of his clients. It wasn’t a dramatic change to how he handled his business today, but it was just enough to make Regina suspicious.

 

And there the man in question was: sitting in his shop, testing antique lighters as Regina first saw him through the wooden door. The action somehow possible, she glowered even harder before roughly opening the door. Rumple smirked upon seeing her, her fury emanating off her like a toasty fire in the middle of a snowstorm as she slammed the door shut behind her. He knew she’d be out for him sooner rather than later after Emma revealed “her” plan. Turns out it didn’t take more than a few hours for her to take action.

 

“Regina,” Rumple, greeted smiling as if the mayor was coming over for tea. “Shall I move some things, make a bit of space for your rage?”

 

“You found that loophole in the town charter.”

 

“Legal documents- contracts if you like- always been a fascination of mine.”

 

_And I have about twenty books that say otherwise should you even dare to challenge it._

 

“Yes, you love to trifle with technicalities,” Regina sneered, glaring especially hard as memories of her many power struggle defeats at the hands of the imp flooded her mind.

 

“I like small weapons, you see- the needle, the pen, the fine point of a deal. Subtlety- not your style, I know.”

 

“You’re a bastard,” she growled.

 

Rumple chuckled, excited to prey upon her anger. “I think your grief’s getting the better of you, Regina. Shame what happened to Graham.”

_That’s right. Hit her where it hurts._

 

“Don’t you talk about him,” she raged. “You know nothing about him.”

 

“What is there to know,” he asked innocently. “He died.”

 

Regina calmed down, though she substituted her shouting with an icy glare.

 

_If looks could kill..._

 

“Are you really going up against me?”

 

“Not directly,” he responded truthfully. “We are, after all, invested in the common good. We’re just picking different sides.”

 

“Well, I think you picked a really slow horse this time. It’s not like you to back a loser.”

 

“She hasn’t lost yet,” Rumple countered.

 

“She will,” the mayor decreed.

 

“Never underestimate someone’s who’s acting for their child.”

_And again._

 

“He’s **not** her child. Not legally.”

 

Rumple snorted. “ **Now** who’s trifling with technicalities?” Rumple seemed to recall some **very** special privileges being used during the adoption of one Henry Daniel Mills.

 

“How’s everything at home with Miles, by the way,” the Queen smirked. “You two are so cute together, you know.” Regina still wasn’t completely positive that Rumple had his memories back, but she knew that if he did, one thing that could easily give the imp away was his arranged marriage to Hook. That had to enrage him like nothing else if he was Rumplestiltskin.

 

All she needed was one tiny slip...

 

“Fantastic,” Rumple curtly answered, a smile immediately going up on his face. “And yes, I know. It’s as if our marriage were a blessing.”

 

_Not going to happen, dearie._

 

Regina put up a smile of her own to match. “Good to hear. Give him an extra big kiss for me.” Regina puckered her lips and made a kissy face while Rumple rolled his eyes at her. Seriously, how petty did she need to be? Maybe that would’ve worked last month, but now, an immature jest like this hardly fazed him.

 

Rumple patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll be sure to. Now if you’ll kindly excuse me, I have some lighters to test. Wouldn’t want someone buying a lie.”

 

“Of course not.” Regina eyed Rumple one more time before finally exiting the pawnshop.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Rumple could honestly say he wasn’t surprised when he opened up the latest issue of The Daily Mirror only to see Emma’s prison pregnancy smeared on the front page the following morning as he opened the door to his shop. Sidney hardly held his punches when the Savior first came to town. He didn’t hesitate to announce Miss Swan’s prison record to the entire town using the very same tool.

 

However, Rumple knew he had to act fast if he didn’t want this situation getting out of hand. Emma would find out about the article sooner rather than later, and he couldn’t be sure just how she would handle it. He needed her under his control, and in order to have that, not a single variable could be unaccounted for.

 

_It appears that I have a swan to chase._

 

Within minutes, Rumple was in his car, pulling out of his shop’s lot. Upon arriving to the building, he made his way up to the loft as fast as his legs and cane could carry him. His deep breathing from his rush upstairs was interrupted momentarily by an even deeper sigh of relief as Emma opened the door.

 

_Thank Merlin._

 

“Gold. You okay?” The blonde seemed to be just starting her day, her red leather jacket resting on the couch as she answered the door wearing only a white tank top, jeans, and socks. Emma moved away from the doorframe, giving Rumple room to walk into the apartment. She signaled for Gold to take a seat while she grabbed him a glass of water. “Take a breather.” Rumple held himself up in the chair with his left hand while his right hand took the water from Emma. After a few generous gulps of his drink and a few more deep breaths, he felt he was ready, at last, to talk.

 

_My magic cannot come back soon enough._

 

“Thank you Miss Swan,” he said. “Um. I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here. I don’t suppose you’ve read the latest issue of The Daily Mirror yet, have you?”

 

“Nope. I think I’d rather massage a porcupine than read about whatever Regina has her little minion saying about me. I’m better off focusing on making an honest campaign for myself.”

 

_Oh, the irony._

 

“I think you might want to take a look at this one.” He straightened himself out before taking his copy of the probably now infamous newspaper out of his coat pocket, and giving it to her. Emma raised an eyebrow at him before drawing her attention to the front-page headline. Rumple counted five seconds before her neutral face turned to one of a scowl.

 

“Is it true,” Rumple asked.

 

Emma didn’t answer, which was all the pawnbroker needed to conclude his deduction. The blonde continued to read through the article, her face looking more and more traumatized by the second.

 

“These were sealed juvie records,” she said, noticeably more shaken than when she opened up the paper. “Sealed by a court order, by a **judge**. She shouldn’t have been able to get these.”

 

“It appears that our dear mayor isn’t afraid to bend the rules in order to get what she wants.”

 

The scowl returned.

 

“She’s dead,” she sneered curtly.

 

“Probably not the best idea for your campaign to say that,” Rumple snipped.

 

“This doesn’t just hurt me,” Emma snapped, standing up from her chair and slamming her hands on the table to support the movement. “It hurts Henry! How’s he going to feel when everyone starts giving him looks over this?”

 

Rumple didn’t answer. He didn’t feel that he needed to.

 

“And Henry’s a smart kid,” she continued ranting. She paced in circles around the table, much to Rumple’s amusement. “How’s he going to feel when he sees his adopted mother running an illegal smear campaign on his birth mother?”

 

“I’m going over to her office,” she decided. She walked over to the couch and grabbed her jacket before moving towards the loft’s entrance to put on her boots. “It’s about time someone finally put an end to-”

 

“Don’t go after her just yet,” he interrupted. Emma stopped in her tracks, kneeled down by the door with one foot barely secured in its accompanying boot. Their eyes met. “Wait until tonight,” he continued. “Half past five to be exact. She’ll be up in her office, all alone. Her cabinet leaves Town Hall at five, but she spends an hour getting her bearings before going home to Henry. You don’t want the press to catch wind of what could be a bad scene, and you don’t want your son caught up in the middle any more than he has to be.”

 

Emma sighed. “You’re right.”

 

_I hate it when he’s right._

 

“Riddle me this, though, ‘cause I’m curious. How do you know all this?”

 

Rumple smiled and moved to stand up. “They post the town’s executives’ hours in front of Town Hall,” he said casually, standing up. “Well, Miss Swan, I hope you follow my advice and settle things as best you can. No need to throw anyone or anything else into this strange menagerie of an election. Now, I must be off. I’ve a shop to run. Toodles.”

 

“Yeah...Toodles.”

 

_I think I need to start screening the people I talk to in this town. I bet even New York City doesn’t even have this many wack jobs._

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

The sight of embers consuming the bottom floor of the Storybrooke Town Hall was glorious, just as Rumple predicted they would be as he set up the flammable wool by the building’s entrance.

 

It had been dark, thanks in no small part to the magic of daylight savings, and combined with the townspeople’s rush to return home after a long day’s work, the pawnbroker was practically invisible as he carried out the deed. Once he saw Emma and Regina move down the stairs, still angrily engaged in conversation, he lit one of his lighters so that a flame would go off on a paper trail, and quickly made himself sparse as the flames grew and drew nearer to the lanolin-drenched wool he set up. He stayed in place as the explosion happened, and only emerged once more as townspeople, in masses, came to scope out the disaster that had just plagued their little town. Gasps could be heard from every angle as they saw the duo emerge from the building.

 

Rumple simply stared for minutes on end, impressed by the fruits of his labor.

 

_Oh, what a successful day this has been. The Savior’s campaign has just been saved, **and** I got to hurt Regina on top of it!_

 

“Rob,” a distinct voice called from the distance, distracting Rumple from enjoying Regina reluctantly get into a stretcher with the assistance of some paramedics. Rumple turned around, and raised an eyebrow at the man approaching him.

 

“Miles,” Rumple said, surprised to see his husband of all people play witness to the sight. “How’d you get here?”

 

“I walked to the grocery store when I realized I needed some asparagus for dinner tonight,” he replied, raising a plastic yellow bag with his good hand. “What happened?”

_Didn’t count on him showing up. Better make this convincing._

 

“Uh,” Rumple hesitated. “I don’t know. A fire must’ve broken out. Regina was hurt, but Miss Swan, who was also in there got her out. I think she saved her life.” Miles grinned, pride for his friend’s accomplishment welling up inside him.

 

“Swan’s over there,” Miles pointed out, gazing over Rumple’s head to a group across the burning building’s perimeter. “Let’s go get some details.” And off they went.

 

Surrounding Emma were Mary Margaret, Archie, Ruby, and Granny Lucas, with Henry approaching the group from the other side. Miles was happy to note the smile on the young lad’s face as he looked at his mom, recounting the details of the dashing rescue to her roommate.

 

“We should see if they have a picture of the rescue,” Mary Margaret beamed.

 

“We could make campaign posters,” Ruby exclaimed.

 

“Just what I was thinking,” Rumple said. The group opened up to Miles and him upon noting their presence. The rest of the team grew quiet, and many of the eyes that looked at Rumple grew wary. “And as your benefactor, consider the whole endeavor financed.” Now everyone’s eyes flashed towards Emma, their faces mixed with expressions of caution, confusion, and melancholy.

 

“Thanks Gold,” she muttered. There was a pause, not long but just prevalent enough to threaten to damper the evening before someone spoke.

 

“Swan, you’re a bloody hero!” Everyone’s attention shifted again, this time to Miles. The group started nodding and smiling once more before continuing to strategize about how to best capitalize on “Emma’s Escapades,” as they now dubbed it, for the good of her campaign. Emma was a smart woman, they thought. She knows what she’s doing.

 

Even if what she’s doing is coordinating with the most power-hungry man in town.

 

But there would be time later to discuss that. For now, though, everyone was content to bask in the glory of the accomplishment as hope spread through their little circle.

 

Across the way, Regina glared at the team assembled in front of the inferno that was her office. She feared for the fate of the election. Should she lose, it would not only be a major blow to her power, but it would boost the public’s opinion on Emma like a rocket ship to Pluto as well. Any damage that the mayor and her private journalist may have done to Emma’s reputation was dashed away with this one act. What was she going to do **now**?

 

The Queen’s focus shifted from the group by the remains of the fire to the burned wood itself. What were the odds that a fire just **happened** to break out at the moment that it put she and Emma in the most danger?

 

_Pretty fucking slim, I’ll bet._

 

_Something’s not right here, and maybe, just maybe, I can use that to win back this election._

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Slowly, the group members broke off one by one as the night progressed. All it took was one yawn from the elder Lucas to get Ruby escorting she and her grandmother back to the sidewalk to take her home. Archie took Henry back to his house for the evening, reasoning that with Regina in the hospital for the night, the psychologist would be the only one she would trust her son with. And Mary Margaret? The schoolteacher took her leave after getting one look of David and Kathryn entering the scene out of the corner of her eye. Despite her hope, she wasn’t fooling anyone when she announced her intentions to meet up with Emma back at the loft with the excuse of tiredness.

 

“Well, we best be off Swan,” Miles said upon seeing the fire department pack up their equipment and move out.

 

“Yes. Let’s. Goodnight Miss Swan. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Rumple took Miles’ hand as the couple started walking towards what Emma could only assume was their car.

 

It was only as she saw Miles and his husband nearing their car, hand in hand, did she notice the bits of lanolin-covered wool spread across the fiery wreckage of Town Hall. Her eyes shot up. She sincerely doubted that **anyone** in town other than she and a certain benefactor of hers had any idea about the qualities of lanolin.

She repeated the same phrase over and over in her mind like a mantra:

 

_This can’t be happening._

 

One thing was certain: this election had just become all the more interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: What will happen next? We shall see! Please be sure to review! Just a reminder, if you give a substantial comment followed by a * on my fanfiction.net account (For those on AO3, I’m under the same username), I’ll send you a sneak peek of the next chapter! So, do it!


	9. The Real Running Mates- Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Once Upon a Time or any of its characters.
> 
> A/N: Greetings! So, before we start, I have some good news for everyone!
> 
> 1\. I got a job! Now, if you’re worried about how this new job might affect my update schedule (progress made everyday), I can pleasantly reassure you that this will be far from the case. My job doesn’t exactly have a lot of busy work and a low tolerance of cell phone usage, which leaves me a lot of time to think up passages, quotes, and everything else for the story! I even got a little green notebook to put them all in! Will I be fast to type them up? I’ll try! I’ve had an exhausting week, so I’m just getting an idea of how I should manage my time now, but I will do my best!
> 
> 2\. I got the Once Upon a Time Season 1-4 DVD’s (well, season 4’s in the mail)! This is going to make referencing the series a breeze since I don’t have to depend on my library anymore to watch the show with captions! What that basically means is more chapters released sooner!!!!
> 
> 3\. I updated my profile! I took a lot of crap off the page, AND wrote briefly about some of my future OUaT projects. None of these endeavors will take priority over Marital Bliss, but I think some of you may enjoy them.

**The Real Running Mates- Part 2**

 

A freezing wind blew through the air as Rumple made his way to work. It was a little past early December, and with Christmas only two weeks away, it seemed the weather was doing its best to fit the upcoming season. The defroster on Rumple’s car was working overtime to accommodate the now frigid weather, and a thick coat now covered his suit as he drove.

 

Last night was a good step forward for Emma’s election. The voter’s minds, in just an instant, were completely flipped to favor the blonde, and if the campaigning that the assembled group had planned to do last night was followed up, there was a good chance to believe that they would stay that way.

 

_Good, yes._

_But not infallible._

No, there was still a chance that Regina could do something to interfere. It wasn’t a large leap in logic to assume that last night’s fire would **not** be reported in the Daily Mirror, but there was a much larger chance that something else from Emma’s life **would**. No, he needed something better to help Emma.

 

_Speak of the devil._

As Rumple’s car rolled past the shop towards his usual parking spot, he saw Emma Swan herself leaning right against the front door. The two briefly made eye contact, and Rumple was, to say the least, taken a little off guard when he saw a scowl in her eyes. Not to mention the fact that she was meeting him almost an hour and a half earlier than everyone had agreed to last night. Sure, they were working together, but Rumple had a sneaking suspicion that she didn’t care for his company **that** much.

 

He parked his car, and paced over to the shop’s entrance. “Good morning Miss Swan. You’re here quite early. Ready to get started on the final day of your campaign?”

 

“Cut the crap,” Emma grunted. “We,” she said as a single finger of hers darted between the two of them, “need to talk.”

 

Rumple’s demeanor remained perfectly calm. “Do we?” He unlocked his shop’s door, and held it open for Emma to go through before doing so himself. He made his way behind the counter casually before turning back towards Emma who stood in the center of the room.

 

“You set the fire.” She reached into the pocket of her what Rumple was starting to believe was an omnipresent jacket and pulled out a handful of charred wool. “Take a whiff. It smells like your sheep oil.” Emma stared deeply into Rumple’s eyes. “It turns out it’s flammable.” Rumple looked down at the fabric in Emma’s hand.

 

_Damn. I was hoping she wasn’t going to see that._

“Well, are you sure? There’s some construction work going on at City Hall at the moment,” he remarked.

 

_You never know. It could work._

 

“There’s loads of flammable solvents used in construction,” the man continued.

 

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Why did you do it,” she asked, unconvinced of the attempted ploy.

 

_Well, it was worth a shot._

“ **If** I did it,” Rumple explained. “If I did it, that would be because you cannot win without something big. Something like, I don’t know.” He let loose a big smirk. “Being the hero in a fire?”

 

Emma clenched her hands in a moment of silence, the soot from the scorched wool spreading onto her fingers. Rumple could sense both head and heart alike throbbing; no doubt feeling like a nest of hornets had just attacked them as the realization slowly set in. And it must have **stung**. She knew it now. He planned it out so well, and she followed his every word with almost no questions asked, and in the end, this is where her hatred got her: right into the pawnbroker’s pocket.

 

But he could just as easily tell she wasn’t finished yet.

 

She was determined to get out.

 

“I can’t go along with this,” she softly spoke.

 

“You just did,” he retorted. “This is just the price of election, Miss Swan.” He could almost hear the unwitting Savior screaming to herself, ‘No! This was supposed to be a **noble** act and an **honest** election!’

 

But now, it was worthless to her as a beggar was to a peddler.

 

Still, he got the feeling she wasn’t giving up.

 

“A price I’m not willing to pay. Find another sucker.”

 

“Okay go ahead. Expose me,” Rumple said with mock encouragement. “But if you do, just think about what you’ll be exposing.” His eyes darkened. “And what you’d be walking away from.”

 

Emma kept to her stance, turning to walk away from the pawnshop.

 

_She’s too strong willed. But even the mightiest oak has at least one weak branch._

“Oh yes,” he finished before her hand even touched the doorknob. “And who you might be disappointing.”

 

Emma turned back, a new fire in her eyes.

 

“Before the election, Gold, you were talking about the importance of spending time with your kids. You know from experience or something?” She asked, her rage surprising quieter than he expected it to be.

 

“I guess Miles never told you. Before we were met, I had a wife and son, both of whom died in a car accident.”

 

_If only it was that easy to explain._

“So you had a son that you loved, and yet here you are blackmailing me with the love of my own kid? Seems a bit hypocritical to me. Seriously, what the hell does Miles see in you?”

 

That got Rumple to pause, if only for a second.

 

“ **I** don’t even know,” Rumple answered honestly. “But I **do** know you’ll keep quiet about the “hypothetical” circumstances of the fire, for both his sake and the sake of **your** boy.”

 

Emma didn’t argue further, but glared harder. Rumple met the stare and a heated silence grew between the two.

 

And then a little bell went off and a voice made itself known.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

“Is this the Swan electoral campaign headquarters?”

 

Emma and Rumple turned around, both surprised to see Miles Gold standing in the doorframe.

 

_And the award for the worst timing ever goes to…_

 

“Miles,” Emma joked, tying to hide her exasperation. “Long time, no see.”

 

Miles smirked. “Well, I had the day off and I figured, ‘what better way to spend it than by helping **you** get elected sheriff?’ Oh Rob,” he called out to his husband. “Ruby texted me earlier. She says she’s prepared some posters and is bringing them by the shop in about an hour.”

 

Rumple nodded. “Very good. Well, we might as well start setting up in that case. I’m going to go get some chairs. Miles, be a dear and entertain Miss Swan in my absence?”

 

“You mean business as usual? Can do,” Miles hollered as Rumple disappeared into the back room, oblivious to the rolling of his husband’s eyes that happened after he said it.

 

Miles turned to face Emma and immediately made note of her grimace.

 

“Miles, maybe you should go home,” she started. “Remember what I was telling you back at the funeral?”

 

“I do,” Miles assured. “Look Swan, I know you don’t want me interfering with whatever’s going on with Regina, but you can’t nor should you stop me from aiding the candidate who **deserves** the title. It’s not mine, nor anyone else’s fault for that matter that that candidate just happens to be you.”

 

“You sure about that?”

 

“Graham and I were close,” he stated. “Not best mates or anything, but close. I’ve seen him run that sheriff’s office by himself everyday for who knows how long, and no matter how busy the place ever got, he never looked for any additional help. Stubborn, he was.” The man’s lips twitched upwards slightly. “Then all of the sudden, you come into town and he’s asking you to be his deputy and bringing you along to crime scenes. Graham saw something in you, Swan. Ingenuity, perhaps, or maybe intuition, or possibly even just a fresh perspective. Any way you dice it, he trusted you with this town’s safety, and to be frank, I do too. So, I’m here to lend a hand, albeit only a single one, in any way I can so that whatever Graham wanted you to bring to this office stays there.”

 

Emma paused in thought. The way Miles thought so highly of her, it reminded her a bit of Graham. He really trusted her.

 

But she hadn’t trusted him. **That** needed to be fixed.

 

“Look Miles,” she sighed. “Regina’s pulled a lot of shit in this town. You already know that. But somehow, you’ve avoided it all. I don’t know the reason, and you don’t either, but I maybe we shouldn’t change that.”

 

Emma opened her mouth, ready to relent against her own objections, but Miles gently argued, believing that the blonde needed to be further convinced.

 

“If you’re that worried about Regina, then let me just hang up some posters. Nothing wrong with hanging up some posters, right? I’ll even stay out of her way so she won’t even know I’m doing anything at all.”

 

“Alright,” she approved. Miles smiled at her, and she returned the gesture.

 

“Well, I suggest we help that husband of mine out. I’ve a feeling those chairs may be a bit harder to move then he expects.”

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

The next hour passed by quietly as the three waited for the rest of the group to arrive. Rumple dusted while Miles and Emma moved all kinds of knickknacks around as to make space for the seats they all brought out earlier.

 

Mary Margaret and Ruby, who carpooled together, arrived, explaining that Archie was chosen to be the moderator for the debate, and thus, forced to be impartial and Granny was working at the diner, keeping Emma’s rescue in her customer’s minds by replaying new stories of the fire on the diner’s television on a loop.

 

The group, now assembled, sat down on the assortment of chairs and stools arranged in a circle in the middle of the store. Rumple took notice of the blonde candidate as she studied the exhilarated faces of her campaigning team. Coming right off the coattails of their conversation earlier, fear coursed through his body concerning his pawn’s silence.

 

No. He decided she couldn’t speak. Not until her team was all rallied up to help her. She wouldn’t reveal the truth to a room of her faithful supporters. The fact that Miles was still apparently unaware of his deed was evidence enough of that. Strangers were a different story, a bridge that Rumple figured he had all day to worry about crossing.

 

Denying Emma the chance to speak, Rumple cleared his throat and began the discussion.

 

“I’m sure none of you are interested in wasting time, so let’s get down to business. As we are no doubt all aware, tonight is the sheriff election, and it will be taking place shortly after the debate. This, unfortunately, only gives us one day to get Storybrooke on Miss Swan’s side, so we have little time to make a lot of progress. While it’s true that our dear candidate’s daring rescue last night worked wonders on the crowd’s opinions of her, it did **not** buy her the election. That much, I can guarantee, is certain. Sidney and Regina have shown that they’re not above playing dirty, and I have a hard time believing that they won’t bring something incriminating to the debate.” Everyone nodded, though Miles came more hesitantly.

 

Even Rumple felt a bit of pity for the man at this point.

 

“In addition,” Rumple continued, “there are still many residents who don’t even know she exists. But, who they do know, is Sidney Glass. He’s been the face of the Daily Mirror for as long as anyone can say, **and** he works closely with the mayor’s office. Today, I believe it is our responsibility as Miss Swan’s campaign team to fix that. From what I understand, Miss Lucas has prepared some posters, and from what was discussed last night, it seems to be a campaign style that you all agree on. Does everyone still agree?” The question was met with agreeing nods and “yeah”s alike.

 

Rumple glanced around the room. Everyone, sans Emma, seemed perfectly excited, and his blonde adversary was very aware of it.

 

_Mission accomplished._

 

“Excellent. Well, I think I’ve talked enough, so let’s hear from our candidate herself.”

 

Emma did all she could to hide her glare successfully before beginning to speak. As she started talking about her expectations for the evening’s debate, Rumple felt his cell phone vibrate from his pants pocket. He looked at the text that appeared on his screen, confused as its sender was sitting right across from him.

 

Nice speech! You sounded so in control! How do you do it? I swear, you could make the phonebook sound sexy ;)

 

Rumple quietly snorted, jokingly rolling his eyes at his husband. He then began clicking away on his phone a response.

 

You’re too much.

 

Miles’ reply arrived in his inbox less than a minute later.

 

You seem to take me just fine XD

 

As did Rumple’s on Miles’ phone.

 

About as well as one takes a shot of Absinthe.

 

Miles hid what would’ve been a fit of laughter with a smirk. Rumple had to admit, it was a bit refreshing to have someone who actually understood as well as laughed at his jokes. It was so rare, considering his state of power for anyone to ever even smile when he was around, let alone laugh. But Miles, gleefully chuckled along with every jest and quip Rumple made.

 

“Hey,” Emma called, sounding very much like a teacher dealing with unruly students as her head shifted between Rumple and Miles. “You two paying attention?”

 

Immediately, Rumple fought the blush that started to creep up his face.

 

_Good going, genius._

 

“Sorry, lass,” Miles said, disguising the snigger that threatened to escape with a loud cough. “Might you tell us where you were?” Emma rolled her eyes, but smiled.

 

“Sure. Mary Margaret just agreed to take poster duty with you, and Ruby was about to show off what you’ll be hanging up.”

 

All eyes moved towards Ruby as the young woman took a thin poster off of a stack of similar ones behind her.

 

“I got a picture from one of the cameramen last night and then put this together. What does everyone think?”

 

The poster was landscape-sided, and the right half of it was adorned with a photo of Emma’s rescue. The left half of the poster was decorated with all manner of patriotic colors, the words “Swan for Sheriff” largely printed in bright red over a white backdrop with a blue border embellishing the side.

 

Immediately, the compliments came in. Even Rumple couldn’t hold himself back from being impressed at the style of the flyer.

 

“I was only able to afford a hundred of them, so hopefully they’ll tide you over until we get the rest.”

 

“We,” Emma asked.

 

“Yeah. He’s coming with me,” Ruby said, facing Rumple.

 

_What?_

 

“Oh,” he asked innocently.

 

“You said it yourself last night. You’re financing the whole thing,” she regaled.

 

A pit fell in Rumple’s stomach. Reminiscence of his promise hit him like a brick.

 

Miles chuckled. “She’s right, Rob. No getting out of this one.”

 

_Really on a roll, today! Last time I checked, wasn’t I the Dark One?_

_So much for keeping tabs on Emma._

Rumple put up a smile. “Fine by me.”

 

“In that case, it looks like everything’s settled then,” Miles stated. “We all know our jobs, so let’s not waste anymore time! Let’s make a swan a sheriff!”

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

The drive to Storybrooke’s print shop was mercifully short and quiet. Rumple had volunteered to drive, with Ruby agreeing after doing a quick comparison of both vehicles’ trunk spaces.

 

Upon arriving at the quaint little print store, the campaigners put in the poster order to the sole shop attendant.

 

“Nice getting a piece of how the other half lives sometime,” Ruby snarked upon seeing Rumple not even bat an eye at the rather high price of the job as he gave the attendant a credit card.

 

Rumple didn’t know how to react to that, but gave what he deemed was an appropriate “heh” in return

 

A half hour timeframe was given for the order’s completion after all the signatures and dimension estimates were handed over. After paying, Rumple took a seat on a bench located by the shop’s door while Ruby conversed with the attendant as she put the job order into the printer. Rumple, meanwhile, tried to start planning how to keep Emma from exposing him, but all his ideas came up short.

 

It was only when another client came into the store, with a little over half of their wait finished, did Ruby join Rumple on the bench. For a while, the two sat in silence. Rumple rather enjoyed the quiet, but after about five minutes of waiting, the awkwardness of the silence overwhelmed beseeched that Rumple try to make conversation, and he finally spoke.

 

“Your grandmother feeling well?” Ruby paused for a moment, just a bit startled by the sudden sound of his voice.

 

“A bit better,” she replied, almost uncertainly.

 

“Good to hear.”

 

And with that, the exchange ended soon after it began.

 

Or at least, that’s what Rumple thought would happen, for only one minute later, Ruby restarted it.

 

“Alright. What’s your deal,” she asked exasperatedly.

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

“One day you’re easing up on Granny and trying to play Mr. Nice Guy, two weeks later you’re working to steal Ashley’s baby, and now you’re Emma’s campaign manager! I don’t get you!”

 

“I wasn’t stealing.” Rumple pointed out. “We had a deal.”

 

“One she obviously wanted out of!”

 

“I don’t break deals,” he explained, “unless of course, a new deal goes up in its place.”

 

“What made this the exception?”

 

“Who said it was? And in any event, you seem awfully curious of me. Care to explain **that**?”

 

“I just want to get to know you,” she answered as if it were obvious. “Everyone’s afraid of the dreaded Robert Gold, and they’ve got a lot of reasons to, but I think there might be just a bit more to you than that. I mean, look at Miles.”

“What about him?” Rumple inquired, puzzled at the seemingly out of the blue mention of his husband.

 

“Obviously, **he** sees something in you. I don’t think he would’ve married you if he didn’t. I’m just thinking it couldn’t hurt to find out what that something is. There’s more to you than meets the eye.” She met his eyes, friendly and fierce, both at the same time.

 

“I’m just Mr. Gold: pawnbroker and landlord. What else is there to say?”

 

Ruby rolled her eyes. “I’m still not sure, but I’ll find out. Keep your secrets while you can.”

 

“As I have no secrets to keep, I sincerely doubt that, but please, feel free to try.

 

“Believe me. I will,” she boasted.

 

“Unfortunately for you, the way I see it, we’ll be going our separate ways as soon as we drop off these posters. Looks like your little undertaking will just have to be pushed back.”

 

Ruby furrowed her eyebrows at him, but stopped the action just as fast as a plan began to take form. The sudden announcement from the print store employee saying that their order was ready prevented Rumple from seeing the glint in her eyes.

 

_We’ll see about that._

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

**Click**

**Click**

**Click**

That was the sound Miles had gotten quite used to over the course of the day. He and Mary Margaret had spent the better part of three hours stapling Ruby’s posters on every flat surface they could find. The cold temperature outside kept them walking and working at a brisk pace, only taking breaks in crowded places, as to campaign even more.

 

The sun was high in the sky when the pair arrived at Town Hall. The two sets of eyes were immediately directed to a poster board situated right next to the entrance. It was located in a great position for drawing in the hosts of people hoping to grab some glimpse of last night’s rescue and the beginning of the entrance’s reconstruction. Mary Margaret and Miles each took a side of the poster board and began stapling away.

 

**Click**

**Click**

**Click**

 

The team had barely secured one poster a piece to the board’s surface when a familiar face showed up, closing in on Mary Margaret’s side of the stature. David Nolan was the name, if Miles remembered correctly. He had met the revived coma patient briefly at his welcome home party, and from what he saw, the man was slowly integrating himself back into Storybrooke life now that his amnesia was done.

 

Miles did his best not to eavesdrop, preferring to focus on stapling poster after poster. However, little words caught his ear, and he ended up following the conversation despite his best efforts. It started out nice enough, news of employment, exchanges about how they’ve been, and all that. But then, things seemed to get bad when David mentioned his wife, notwithstanding how well the two tried to hide their dissatisfaction. Despite the conversation’s pleasant sounds, Miles couldn’t help but notice tension in the air. Though he couldn’t see his co-campaigners face, he wouldn’t have been surprised to see a frown there, desperately trying to make itself disappear.

 

Just in the nick of time, though, before such expressions of despair could make themselves known, a familiar car pulled up at Town Hall and Ruby stepped out of the car, waving at Mary Margaret before going to the trunk of the vehicle.

 

“I’m…all out of posters,” she said stiffly. “I’m going to go get some more. Miles!” she called. “Be right back! Ruby and Robert are here with the flyers!” Miles emerged from the other side of the flyer board only to see her practically running off in the direction of his husband’s car, nearly half way to her destination already. His eyes unintentionally caught David’s as he moved to refocus his attention towards the poster board, but they refused to budge back to his flyers.

 

A pause ensued between the two men.

 

“I won’t ask,” Miles finally shrugged, as he moved back towards the other side.

 

“How much did you hear,” David groaned.

 

“Probably much more than you wanted me to,” he admitted.

 

David sighed out of embarrassment.

 

“You’re married. Tell me: Does it get better?”

 

Miles smirked, unbeknownst to David. “You ask the man who’s more certain of his love for his husband than the idea that the sun comes up in the morning. Yes, it gets better, but you, no doubt, already know that. No, mate, what you want to know is if it gets any easier.”

 

David’s face deadpanned. “I’ll reword it then: Does it get **easier**?”

 

The black-haired man snickered. “It’s not that easy to say. Some days, it’s simpler than touching your nose. Other days, wrestling with eels seems more pleasurable.”

 

“How do you two do it?”

 

“Simple: We just work to stay on the same page. We don’t let our grievances bottle up unresolved.”

 

“What if your grievances, as you so eloquently put it, cause some feelings to be hurt?”

 

“That’s when you need to work at it the **most** , mate. You think Rob and I have never fought? Especially over things we can’t change about each other?”

 

“I guess that would be too much to hope for, wouldn’t it,” David sighed.

 

“Aye,” Miles confirmed. “Conflicts are necessary in any relationship. Even the best of couple have their fights, and sometimes, they’re big ones. My best advice: Just don’t hide from your feelings. If you’re happy, be happy. If you’re angry, well, you best let your partner know, and sure, you might not talk for a bit while you work it out on your own, but the way I see it, it’s better than being happy under false pretenses and it gives you time to think on it. Think of why they do what they do. Think of why it bothers you, or bothers them. That’ll make you grow stronger. People aren’t built to be mind readers, so let’s not treat them like they’re supposed to be. Get what I’m saying?”

 

David glanced by the entrance of Town Hall. Mary Margaret stood at a table with a few dozen posters in hand, trying to keep her attention on Ruby.

 

“I think I actually do.” He moved to the other side of the poster board as to face Miles again. “Thanks, **mate**.” he said, putting a humorous emphasis on the latter word.

 

Miles snickered. “Quite welcome. Well,” he said, gazing off into the distance at Robert, who was just getting out of his car, “I’m off to spend some quality time with **my** love. Here’s hoping you make it work so you can do the same with yours.”

 

He nodded at Miles who took off to meet his group around the car. “Yeah,” he whispered, inaudible to all but himself. “Here’s hoping.”

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Rumple had been excited to end his relations with Emma’s campaign group as soon as he dropped off the posters, eager to get back to doing, what he felt, were things that could actually affect the campaign.

 

Regrettably for him, however, fate did not seem to be on his side in this regard.

 

He and Ruby, or rather Ruby, who dragged him along by implication, opted to follow Miles and Mary Margaret around in Rumple’s car and help them hang posters. Rumple could barely stand being held back by the group, and he was given no opportunity to escape. It wasn’t like he could leave: It was his car!

 

After about two hours, one of their campaign spots led the four to be situated in a large open park. Rumple suggested splitting up in the interest of covering more ground, and fortunately for him, there were enough supplies to go around for the team to justify the idea.

 

A half an hour later, a flyer-less Rumple leaned against a metal wire fence at the edge of the park, looking at denizens as they passed by with a glum expression on his face.

 

He had claimed an area of the park that led to an edge.

 

Unfortunately, it turned out to be the **opposite** edge from where his car was.

 

_Just another inconvenience to add onto the pile._

 

He wanted to talk to the Savior again. He was worried. There was only about another hour until the debate, and there was still a good chance that Emma would go through with exposing his part in the fire. More than anything, he wanted to go over to Town Hall. He figured all it would take was one more anecdote about Henry, and the importance of her staying as Henry’s hero, and she would relent easily enough.

 

_But no. I’m stuck halfway across town doing nothing more than bringing about my limp and burning off my morning coffee._

 

He was all but ready to turn back when just then, he saw some oh-so familiar locks of perfectly styled raven hair complemented by a matching pea coat.

 

Regina Mills.

 

_Perhaps this day could get just a little bit better._

He figured Regina would walk right past him once she saw him, but he could at least get some satisfaction that came hand-in-hand with annoying her.

 

“Hello Regina,” he welcomed as soon as she was close enough to hear him. “Recovering well from your little spill yesterday?”

 

“Like you care,” Regina glowered. She continued walking away without stopping just as Rumple predicted she would.

 

“How could you think I wouldn’t care about the wellbeing of my friend, mayor, and… business colleague?”

 

Much to Rumple’s surprise, Regina actually turned around and walked back to face him. “We’ll see how all that holds up after tonight’s election.”

 

“My horse isn’t seeming so slow, now is she?”

 

“She ate a carrot,” she waved off. “But that’ll wear off sooner than you think.”

 

“Why would you say that?”

 

“Two reasons,” Regina stated in a matter-of-fact fashion. “One: Sidney did some research. Something tells me the people of Storybrooke aren’t going to be very enthusiastic about having a thief as their sheriff.”

 

“People improve themselves everyday, Regina,” Rumple argued. “There’s little people love more than a story of redemption and triumph.”

 

“That may be true,” she relented, despite her confident smile still present, “ **But** that brings me to my second point. Don’t you think that that love might diminish a bit when the townspeople find out that Miss Swan’s campaign manager is the very same man who terrorizes them for money every month?”

 

Rumple paused for a moment, as his thoughts circled around his head.

 

Regina…had a good point.

 

The town’s hatred of him was far from news to anyone. Even Miles, who loved him unconditionally, was aware of that! But one thing that very few people were aware of was that someone in this town other than his husband **wasn’t** afraid of him.

 

Emma Swan.

 

_Perhaps her plans to profess my involvement in the fire might not be all for naught after all._

“You may be right,” Rumple admitted, his face contorted to look as though he had never done wrong in his life.

 

Regina scoffed. “Can I get that on video or something?” Rumple rolled his eyes.

 

“ **But** ,” he said, waving his hand in the same manner he had done countless times back in the Enchanted Forest. “You may be wrong too. Oh so very wrong. I said it before, and I’ll say it again: She hasn’t lost yet.”

 

Regina glared at him.

 

“You’re right about that spill,” Regina said in a sickly sweet tone. “It was rather nasty. In fact, the whole fire itself was just odd. I wonder where it came from.”

 

Rumple shrugged. “Who knows? Perhaps some wayward cigarette ash?”

 

“Yes,” Regina muttered. “Perhaps. **Or** perhaps you’re full of shit. The timing of that fire was far too perfect for it to be just a coincidence **and** there was no identified source for the explosion.”

 

“What are you trying to say?”

 

“I’m saying that I think you had something to do with it. I don’t know how, but you’re far from innocent.”

 

“Regina,” Rumple beseeched. “Let’s keep our theories to ourselves.” The mayor was just about to open her mouth when Rumple continued. “Please?”

 

The resulting look on the mayor’s face could best be described as resembling someone who drank a whole glass of pure lemon juice on a dare. But, she remained silent.

 

“Thank you,” he mouthed.

 

“Rob,” he heard a voice that was unmistakably Miles’ beckoning from the not-too-far-off distance.

 

“Well, I best be off. See you at tonight’s debate. Should be oodles of fun.” With that, he left Regina alone with the brisk December breeze to search for his husband.

 

“Yeah,” Regina growled. “See you.”

 

It didn’t take long to find Miles after that. The two walked together back to the spot where Rumple’s car was. Miles seemed all too ready to head over to Town Hall for the debate, but his companion did not share the same thoughts.

 

No. His work wasn’t finished. Not yet, at least, but it would be soon.

 

All that was left to do was secure the final piece in this puzzle of a campaign.

 

When they finally got back to the care, they immediately came across Ruby and Mary Margaret.

 

“The debate’s starting soon, so it’s probably best to head back now,” Ruby said.

 

“I agree,” Rumple replied. “First though, if she would allow me, I need to speak with Miss Blanchard for a moment.”

 

The woman in question, much to Rumple’s expectancy, was caught off guard by the inquiry. For a while, Mary Margaret didn’t even seem aware that she was being called upon at all.

 

However, it didn’t last long before she was snapped out of her trance.

 

“Of-of course,” the schoolteacher timidly replied.

 

The pawnbroker and the schoolteacher walked away from the other two, Rumple gesturing them to move even further forward until he finally stopped his lady companion when he was confident they were out of earshot of any unwanted listeners.

 

“I’ve prepared some notecards for Miss Swan,” he said, taking what he prepared out of his pocket, “and I was hoping you could bring them to her.”

 

Mary Margaret sighed with relief. “Oh. Sure. Is…is that all?”

 

_Seriously. What does she think I’m going to **do** to her?_

 

“I’m…uh… I’m worried about her. Emma, I mean.” He stammered flawlessly. “She seemed a bit nervous when we were all gathered at my shop, and I’d wager she remains so at the moment. I’d like to ask you to go talk to her. If you can, try to calm her nerves, and make sure she’s ready to do what she feels she needs to for the debate. You’re her closest friend from what I can gather. That leads me to believe you could support her better than anyone.”

 

Rumple could barely stop himself from smiling. With every word spoken, he could see the young woman falling for his tricks, and boy, was he reveling in it. He could practically see the cogs grinding in the schoolteacher’s head as she thought of her poor friend Emma, and how she was usually so tough. She often put up a face that made everyone think she could conquer the world if she really wanted to.

 

Now, though, poor little Emma needed help.

 

Her help.

 

There was only one answer she **could** give.

 

“Of course I’ll do it.”

 

Rumple put up a smile. “That’s all I needed to hear. Well, let us waste not a moment longer. Off to Town Hall!”

 

_Congratulations Savior. You’ve just won an election._

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Archie contacted Emma not one hour after her meeting with her campaign team. The psychologist detailed where exactly the debate would happen as well as asked her to come by for a dress rehearsal. The message led the blonde to a quaint auditorium, located in the back of the still ash-carrying Town Hall. Thankfully, the entrance and the subsequent auditorium itself were untouched by the previous night’s fire. The inside of the building was nice. It was a bright room, the white walls and ceilings acting as a good contrast to the brown curtain, stage, and chairs, which also helped to give the auditorium a very old-timey feeling that Storybrooke was oh-so famous for holding. There were at least a good hundred chairs here, and Emma had not a doubt in her mind that they would all be filled by Storybrooke’s countless townspeople before the debate started.

 

_And they’re all going to be looking at you as you lie to their faces._

 

Emma gulped. Despite everything she thought she knew, she truly had no idea what to expect at tonight’s debate. Dealing with questions about the articles published by Sydney in his newspaper was going to be bad enough, but now she had to add on questions about the fire. And there wasn’t a doubt in her mind: Henry would be here tonight. Even if he didn’t show up, he would find out about what happened, whether it be by word-of-mouth or through the newest issue of The Daily Mirror. Either way, Emma wasn’t excited.

 

The dress rehearsal proved to be little more than Archie giving a reading of the Town Hall Code of Conduct and a brief outline of how the debate would proceed. Emma was quite relieved when she was told she would be going second. It would give her a chance to fight back against any comments Sidney made towards her.

 

What was actually hours passed by in what felt like minutes as Emma waited for the debate to begin. She only left the auditorium once to get lunch from Granny’s, and even then, she ordered her food to go when faced with cheers from the diner’s patrons as well as the news stories that continued to play on the Widow Lucas’ television about her actions yesterday.

 

Now, the auditorium’s population was quickly growing in numbers. The building’s quietness died down as if it had been shot as people started bustling in the room. Within ten minutes, over half of the seats were occupied.

 

She knew what she had to do tonight. It was a tough ass call: that much was sure, but it was a tough ass call that she was going to make.

 

Emma peeked outside the curtain that separated herself and the rest of the audience. Henry sat in the center of the first row next to his mother. He sported an excited grin and his fists were balled. However, unlike at Graham’s funeral, the gesture now signified anticipation.

 

Suddenly, she sensed something hanging in the air below her. She looked down and saw a set of notecard attached to a woman’s arm. Her eyes followed the arm’s length until she could see the face of one Mary Margaret Blanchard. Emma smiled and took the notecards as well as a bottle of water from the schoolteacher. The smile didn’t last long before reality came crashing back down as she realized just where she was, and what she was about to do.

 

“I’m not going to win,” Emma sighed.

 

Mary Margaret’s face grew a look of concern; the same one Emma had become so used to.

 

“What are you talking about,” she asked. “Everyone’s talking about what you did in the fire.”

 

“No, Henry’s right. I can’t beat Regina at this. Not the way she fights. Watch and see.”

 

“Is this really just about beating Regina?”

 

“It’s just,” Emma said, pulling the curtain once more, showing her friend her son.

 

“Henry,” Mary Margaret finished. The blonde nodded.

 

“I want to show him that good can actually win.”

 

“That’s why you want to win it for **him** ,” she pointed out. “But why do you want to win the election for **yourself**?”

 

“T-that is why,” Emma stated, as if it should’ve been obvious. “I want to show him that a hero can win. And if I’m not… If I’m not a hero, and I’m not the savior, then what part do I have in his life?” Suddenly, Mary Margaret’s question came back into her mind, but in a new light. “Okay. There it is.”

 

She smiled at her roommate. It was times like these where she was more grateful for Mary Margaret’s presence than ever. She always knew just what to say to put Emma’s plights in perspective. This town wasn’t the easiest to fit into, especially with Graham dead, but Mary Margaret was always just… there.

 

And despite a lifetime of loneliness, she liked it.

 

Nevertheless, all the comfort in the world couldn’t change the fact that tonight’s debate was probably going to hurt her relationship with Henry. Badly. But, what had to be done had to be done, and if there was one thing Emma Swan could say about her self, it’s that she always did what had to be done.

 

Emma peered once more behind the curtain, only to see Rumple and Miles enter the auditorium, side by side. Rumple glanced at the curtain and gazed at her, as if daring her to utter even one indicative syllable about he and the fire.

 

_Well, here goes nothing._

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

To say that the debate started out on a dull note was one hell of an understatement. While Archie did his best to make the pre-debate proceedings at least a touch more interesting with some jokes, it proved to be too little to drive away the monotony.

At last, though, the debate commenced.

 

Sydney went through his opening statement flawlessly as Emma nervously waited for her turn. The blonde was momentarily relieved from her nerves upon seeing Regina mouth out every word of her competitor’s speech alongside the journalist.

 

_Looks like **somebody** got scared._

Still, Emma was caught off guard as Archie called her name. She stood up, holding back the urge to shake as she slowly made her way to the podium. She glanced around the room once more, catching the eyes of friends and enemies alike before taking a deep breath, and starting to speak.

 

“You guys all know I have what they call a troubled past,” Emma mumbled into the microphone uncomfortably. “But you’ve been able to overlook it because of the hero thing.” She turned her head to look at Henry, who, as opposed to his mother who stoically stared at her, practically bounced in his seat from the meme mention of the courageous deed. She inwardly winced.

 

_It was fun while it lasted, kid._

“But here’s the thing,” she uttered, her voice growing in power. “The fire was a set up.” Immediately, confusion spread through the audience like wildfire. The townspeople murmured to their neighbors. Emma could see Miles look to exchange similar expressions with his husband, but to no avail, as Rumple simply gazed forward at her. Regina raised her eyebrows in something that Emma would’ve called surprise, but the stare didn’t seem to hit quite that level. And Henry… his eyes darted downwards, almost a mirror of how he looked at Graham’s funeral. Her heart fell out of her chest.

 

_Can’t take it back now._

 

“Mr. Gold agreed to support me in this race, but I didn’t know that meant he was going to set a fire. I don’t have definitive evidence. But I’m sure.” The look of shock of Miles face from the moment Emma indicted his husband’s name was astonishing; a slackened jaw, raised eyebrows, betrayal in his eyes as he looked at Rumple. Rumple, however, didn’t even spare his husband a glance, as his attention remained focused on the blonde at the podium. As Emma continued her speech onward, the Miles held his stunned expression for quite some time before finally resting his face…in a glare.

 

“And the worst part of all this was.” Emma hesitated. “The worst part of all this **is** ,”she amended, “I let you all think it was real. And I can’t win that way.” She looked at Henry once more. Her boy still wouldn’t look at her, and a wave of anguish came over her.

 

“I’m sorry,” she finished before disappearing behind the curtain, all hopes of worthiness abandoning her.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

The audience was in complete shock. The whispers that happened during Emma’s speech now grew in volume, encompassing the room and bringing the debate to a screeching halt. Sidney didn’t even bother getting up for his turn, and Archie pleas for everyone to return to their seats fell upon deaf ears from the front row to the back.

 

Rumple stood up and limped his way out of the crowded auditorium, aware of but choosing to ignore both the multitude of eyes watching him as he left as well as Miles following closely behind, still glaring at him. It was only once they were a fair distance away from the doors of Town Hall outside did Miles feel it appropriate to talk.

 

“Rob, what the **hell** was Emma going on about in there,” Miles shouted. “ **What did you do**?”

 

“Simply what was necessary to guarantee her victory,” Rumple retorted, his voice deadly calm.

 

“You set fire to a major town landmark! **People** were in there! How was that **necessary**?”

 

“The fire was settled, everyone was safe, and Miss Swan’s “troubled past,” as she put it has been washed away from the townspeople minds as a result. You said it yourself: ‘She deserves the title.’ I was just making the essential moves to make that happen.”

 

“Those moves weren’t yours to make,” Miles stated exasperatedly. “Rob, how could you do this? What were you **thinking**?”

 

“Emma needed help winning the election,” he replied simply. “She couldn’t win the election without me.”

 

“How can you be so fucking calm about this,” Miles snapped. “Those people, who may I remind you are our friends, neighbors, and patrons, just saw was a woman confessing to you committing **arson**!”

 

“You know what these people just saw, Miles,” Rumple asked, dropping his calm voice for one more befitting of the moment. “They just saw someone standing up to the scariest man in Storybrooke. They just saw the kind of person they want protecting them.”

 

“No,” Miles groaned. “Please. Please, Rob. Please. **Please** don’t tell me you **meant** for Swan to expose you back in there!” The only response he got from his partner was a look. ”You’ve done some bad things in the past, Rob, but this one **by far** takes the cake.”

 

“I think you need some time to cool down,” Rumple decided. “I’m heading to the shop for a few hours. We can talk about this later.”

 

“Do what you want,” he gritted. “I’m submitting my vote, and then going home. Maybe at some point tonight my husband will join me instead of this **demon** that appears to have taken his place.” Miles turned around and made his way back to Town Hall, attempting to make himself as small as possible in the process while still somehow holding on to his rage.

 

Rumple kept his eyes on his husband for a few extra seconds the man, processing the man’s last words. He became a bit worried that Miles didn’t look back at him at all as he made his way back into the building, but he forced himself into waving it off.

 

_He’ll be over it in a few hours, just as he always is._

He then turned the other way as well, confident that everything was still in his control.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> So, before you go, I have a couple of things I want to bring up.
> 
> First, I wanted to make a change to the incentive program on my fanfiction.net account. Pardon the usage of caps lock please. I just want to make sure everyone who wants to get the sneak peek is able to adapt to the new system.
> 
> IF YOU WANT THE SNEAK PEEK, PLEASE PUT “SNEAK PEEK PLEASE” AT THE END OF YOUR REVIEW!!!!!
> 
> Second, while I’m not sure how I want to go about doing this exactly, I’ve been considering getting an editor. I think I’ve been doing well on my own, but I know that editing is beyond important for writing any type of quality work, and that my writing has a lot of room for improvement. 
> 
> My hopes for the person who would act in such a role would be that we would have an Instant Message session (Skype, Facebook, or AIM) as the editor is going at it so we could discuss any story or wording concerns they have. Whoever would become my editor would get some nice perks, including a shout out or two every chapter, and early access to the chapter as well as future plot points. The person I pick for this job needs to be timely, professional, trustworthy, and have some really good work under their proverbial belt.
> 
> So, is this something you would want to see? Please let me know.
> 
> Well, that’s all I have to say! Thank you for reading, and please leave a review! Have a fantastic day, and stay golden, hooked, regal, charming, or whatever Once-themed adjective you can think of that makes you happy!


	10. Why He Loves You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Once Upon a Time or any of the characters.
> 
> A/N: Hey everyone! So glad to be updating again!!!! It’s been far too long, and I apologize for that!
> 
> So, Season 5 premiered. Holy hell, what a way to start off a season! I love the way they used Rumple’s character, there were amazing moments from every cast member, and I’m still gushing over the Captain Swan moments!!!!! So many questions are in the air, and I’m at the edge of my seat ready to find out!!!!
> 
> At the same time, I’m so nervous for how the creators are going to take the lore of the Dark One. Not for anything of quality. No, I believe that the writers will do an awesome job with the lore. But I got to say, I have this whole fic planned out, and the Dark One lore will be playing a part in the story. So, I’m both excited for the series to turn our expectations on their heads, and terrified about all the changes I might have to make to my plan so that everything fits continuity! If it ends up being so different that my original story just can’t function, then I’m unfortunately going to have to drift away from canon more than I wanted to.
> 
> It’s a shame too. What I like about this AU so much is how it’s kind of like a science experiment. I changed one or two variables and wrote how it affects everything else. It also gives me reason to re-watch a lot of the series and rekindle my love for the earlier seasons. Only Season 4 is really fresh in my mind, so it’s a good way to get the old memory jogging!
> 
> Well, rant aside, I’m really excited about this chapter, and I hope you all are too! I think we’re finally going to be tapping into the real juice of the story, and it’s gonna be good!!!!
> 
> Please enjoy!!!!!

**Why He Loves You**

Rumple ended up staying in the shop for quite a few hours, enough to justify ordering dinner in. The extra alone time gave him a chance to clean up from the meeting earlier, drop a little “victory present” in the form of Graham’s jacket off at the sheriff’s station, and listen to the news coverage of the stunted debate’s fallout from his shop’s radio. Already, he could hear joy leave the townspeople’s lips as they told the reporter all about how impressed they were with Emma’s speech. The word “honest” was thrown around a lot, as were the words “honorable,” “fearless,” and “courageous.” He smirked at Emma’s, and be extension, his now all-too-sure victory.

 

Throughout the evening, not a word from Miles reached Rumple. Normally, Rumple would be worried after a disturbance to their relationship like their fight except right now, where the blond was anything **but**. He certainly felt there was nothing to fear. Rumple kept his reasoning logical: They made up with their last fight with ease. Hell, it was **Miles** who even apologized! Surely, this would be no different and they’d be snuggling in bed before the last light in their house dimmed.

 

There was neither a smile nor a kiss, but only droning of news anchors stemming from the television set to greet Rumple as he entered the house. Almost all the lights on the level were on, and the stench of leftovers from the previous night danced around Rumple's nose. After fixating his focus on the sounds he heard when he first came in, Rumple followed them towards the den. He stopped at the room’s opening and looked around. Miles was resting on the couch; his upper body was supported by the couch’s arm while his legs squished into the remaining space. Miles was glaring at the TV, and based upon the on-screen headline concerning a new blonde sheriff, Rumple suspected the scowl had nothing to do with the news. For a few minutes, Rumple and Miles merely watched the TV, their acknowledgements of each other’s presences only internalized. Finally, Miles turned to Rumple, the former looking at the latter expectantly.

 

“Surprised to see you’re not at Emma’s election party,” Rumple muttered.

 

Miles eyes narrowed, more out of disappointment than anything else. “I’m the husband of the man who almost sabotaged the election,” the younger man gritted. He pulled himself up to sit upwards with one swift motion, maintaining eye contact with his husband the entire time. “Something tells me I don’t have a place there.”

 

“You worry far too much about what others think, my dear.”

 

“And you don’t worry nearly enough,” Miles roared as he leapt off the sofa and glared daggers at Rumple. “You’re now the man who set fire to a government building, and I’m married to you! I think it’s understandable that I’d be a little bit embarrassed!”

 

“So now you’re **embarrassed** of me?” Rumple was only too happy to put Miles on the defensive.

 

“That’s not what I’m getting at and you know it!”

 

“It may not be what you’re getting at, but it’s surely what you’re implying.”

 

_That should swing the tide back to me._

 

“Stop avoiding the subject,” Miles shouted without missing a beat. “This isn’t about me, and you bloody well know it! It’s about you, and what happened back at Town Hall!”

 

_Per…haps not?_

 

Miles took a deep, labored breath. His rage seemed to lessen, if only a bit. “Answer me this,” he growled. “Do you even feel any remorse? Isn’t any part of you saying that what you did may have been wrong? Any at all?”

 

“If I’m to believe what that television is saying, then no,” he answered, pointing to the object in question.

 

“Rob, what the hell’s come over you all of a sudden? These are **people** you’re dealing with! How can you treat them with such indifference?” Rumple could hear the desperation in the other man’s voice. He sounded so much like he didn’t want to believe what was happening. That there had to be a reason why the man he loved so abruptly became so cruel. And of course, there was a reason, but Rumple was just about the very last person willing to let him know.

 

“Because in the end, that indifference, like it or not, is what won the day for Miss Swan, and by proxy, all of us,” Rumple said, attempting to persuade the curse pirate. Miles only grunted in response. “What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry,” Rumple asked exasperatedly, waving the hand unbound to his cane in the air in a fit. “Well fine, Miles, I’m sorry.”

 

“That’s not what I want! I **want** you to mean it! I want you to know **why** it was wrong!” Miles ran his fingers through his hair. “Enough of this. Obviously, you refuse to see common sense and decency in favor of your own delusions.” Without waiting for a retort from his partner, Miles stomped right past Rumple. Within seconds, the blond could hear footsteps pounding against the creaking staircase and not long after that, the slamming of a door.

 

_He’s getting a thicker skin, becoming less of a pushover. That’s good, means the curse is weakening even further._

 

_On the downside though, getting back in his favor is going to prove to be much harder than originally anticipated._

Rumple clenched his fist. Who knew marital problems would ever become a complication in the life of The Dark One?

 

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When Rumple entered the bedroom, he saw Miles, who looked to be asleep, his back opposite to Rumple’s side of the bed. The blond stifled a groan.

 

_Looks like we’re not making up tonight._

 

It was annoying, that was to be sure. He wanted this fight to be over and done with quickly as the consequences should their feud go on any longer than necessary could very well be disastrous. The man’s friendship with the Savior was something that could no longer be ignored, as it made disagreements like the one he currently faced suddenly a much bigger problem than anticipated. Emma was now firmly in Miles corner, and after everything with the election, Rumple realized that he needed to be there as well should he want any more beneficial contact with her. Rumple seethed from the irony: the mass manipulator who always had the world under his thumb now needed to be under the thumb of someone else, and his own worst enemy’s no less.

 

Still, though, Rumple attempted to keep himself optimistic in the light of these facts. So, the ideal “couple never going to bed angry” image he had hoped would happen turned out to be far from realistic, but Rumple tried not to worry as he changed into his pajamas and crawled into bed. Tomorrow birthed another day, one where peace between the two was much more promising. For now though, Rumple thought it best to simply relax. He made an extra effort to sleep in the direction of Miles, as if to subtly dictate love and a need for physical contact from the man. Truth be told, though, Rumple was rather content with that particular set of circumstances. For the first night in nearly two months, he would get to sleep without Hook’s cursed persona pressed compromisingly beside him.

 

Rumple closed his eyes, comfortably noting the absence of a certain set of arms around him. Suddenly, he felt the bed rattle.

 

“Rob?”

 

Rumple hummed an inquiry as he opened his eyes. Miles was now turned in his direction, though still not touching him. Any possibility Rumple may have thought of for a pre-morning make up was dashed as he saw the dead look in his partner’s eyes.

 

“I’m angry.” Miles flatly stated. “Really angry.”

 

“I think we established that downstairs,” Rumple retorted tiredly.

 

“Let me finish,” he said calmly. “I intend to stay mad at you about this until you understand what you did wrong and regret it. Be that as it may, however, I’ve seldom gone to bed without telling you this, and tonight will be no exception.” Rumple raised his eyebrows, despite his suspicions of what was to come. “I love you,” Miles sighed. He was clearly hurt; his voice and eyes gave that much away. However, Rumple knew the man did his best to not let anger overtake his sincerity. Miles turned so that his back was to his husband again before letting himself fall asleep.

 

“I love you too,” Rumple softly spoke. And with that, there was hope. Rumple closed his eyes and into the abyss of a dreamless sleep he went.

 

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Only to fall out of it not two hours later.

 

The moment Rumple opened his eyes, he knew the time was far from daybreak. The room was freezing and the only light that was present was that coming from the half moon outside their window. Rumple attempted to fall back asleep. He took as much of the blankets as he possibly could without disturbing Miles and shifted himself to what he felt was a comfortable position.

 

Until it turned out that it **wasn’t** so comfortable, that was. He tried moving himself again, this time onto his back. After about ten minutes, he realized he had no better luck on his back than on either of his sides. He next rolled onto his stomach and tightened the blankets around him again. If Miles knew Rumple was awake, he gave no indication of it. He remained still as a statue, resting as if his husband weren’t struggling to achieve a matching state of sleep. Rumple was torn about how to feel about that fact. On one hand, seeing his husband experiencing such discomfort while attempting to sleep might birth sympathy from the younger man, and make their arguing die down before the sun could even rise. On the other hand, though, Rumple’s current frustration with his situation was at an all time high, and if not controlled well enough, it could very well only add fuel to the fire of their at-the-moment tremulous relationship. Eventually, though, Rumple just decided it was better this way. He attempted to sleep again, only to be met with similar problems to his previous tries.

 

Now he was growing desperate.

 

It had to be just the blankets. It just **had** to be! Or his position! He didn’t care, but it **had** to be one of those. The alternative was something Rumple didn’t want to think of.

 

_…_

_This can **not** be possible!_

 

Rumple hated this. He really did with every fiber of his darkened heart.

 

He’d grown used to Miles holding him as they slept.

 

Rumple couldn’t believe it! The one thing he’d wanted for months to get away from, and yet, as he was finally free of Miles’ all consuming grip, it turned out he now felt almost incomplete without it! The disgust Rumple used to get in the pit of his stomach from their nightly ritual had been abandoned for sometime, replaced with simple indifference, and now apparently, something resembling fondness! Rumple didn’t exactly know when that happened, but right now, his body longed for the familiar contact on levels only comparable to his desire for the return of his magic. It disturbed him how much he had grown accustomed to their sleeping arrangement. Miles’ soft snores became tolerable and sometimes resembled what one could call a soothing sound. The light squirms and other movements the man made in his sleep were comforting reassurances for Rumple whenever he woke from a nightmare that he was back in the realm of reality. He was even used to Miles’ chest hairs tickling his nose on the nights where the younger man couldn’t be bothered to put on a shirt!

 

And if Rumple was being completely honest with himself, it felt a bit odd without the sensation that came with being held. He far too exposed for his liking, as silly as it sounded. He knew Miles would defend him, or rather, the man he had believed was Robert Gold, with his life, and something about that always helped Rumple sleep a bit easier. Rumple admitted that his partner was strong, far stronger than he was in his non-magical state, and that should there be trouble during the evening, the other man would fight tooth-and-nail to see to his protection. However, now that Miles wasn’t so much as touching him, the younger man could be in Guatemala for all Rumple knew should danger strike! It was ridiculous to think that! It really was, but Rumple couldn’t even help himself! Only when he was looking directly at Miles did he feel any sense of safety in the bed, and that wasn’t exactly helpful towards his desire to sleep.

 

 **And** all of that didn’t even account for the fact that Rumple was about as cold as an iceberg without his husband’s warmth! Who could blame him? Miles was practically a blanket in and of himself, the perfect weapon against the growing army that was the frosty air. Winter was getting closer each and every day, and now more than ever, Rumple found himself appreciating the warmth Miles’ body readily supplied.

 

He internally groaned once more. He was in for a long night.

 

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The next morning passed by awkwardly. Nary a word was exchanged between husbands as they readied themselves for the day. The house was almost a spooky degree of quiet to Rumple. In all the years he lived in the house, it had never been this silent during the daytime before. At the same time though, he didn’t care. His horrible nights sleep left Rumple with little energy, and he really didn’t want to waste it on words, especially words that he honestly felt would do nothing for them.

 

As one could expect, not much progress was made towards resolving their argument. Miles seemed just as irritated as he was the previous night. A brief, hollow-toned “love you” that escaped the man’s lips before he left the car was the closest thing towards resolution that Rumple got, and Rumple was barely given the time to return it before Miles shut the car door behind him.

 

Rumple found himself on the edge of collapse as he entered his shop. He had gotten practically no sleep over the past twenty-four hours, and now his “relationship” was in trouble, both situations going completely against his expectations. He didn’t even bother to take cash out of his safe before sitting down in the back room. He moved and assortment of papers and tools around until he had a comfortable place to rest his arms and head on. After trying and failing once more to get some rest, Rumple simply gave up and just stare into space and clear his thoughts.

 

Only **that** turned out to be equally futile, **and** frustrating too!

 

Directly in front of Rumple stood a large bookcase, filled to the brim with all manner of literature, originating from both the old and new realms he inhabited. Rumple groaned. It had been nearly a week since he’d last been able to even crack the spine of one of his magic books. Between the election and now, this argument, there was a lot of lost time, time Rumple knew he was losing more and more of with each passing day. Of course, he was still confident there was time to spare until the curse broke. While Emma was definitely a much more hopeful woman than she was when she first came to Storybrooke, Rumple knew the Savior was still quite a ways away from really saving anyone.

 

However, something still nagged him forward, pushing him to analyze every letter of every page of every book in his collection as often as he was allowed. Never far from the front of his thoughts was Rumple’s son. The blond knew that everyday he couldn’t escape the town was just one more day that his boy lived without his father, one more day for his animosity, which Rumple presumed was already high, to grow, and one more day that Baelfire could potentially be in danger. Who knew what awaited Rumple when he was finally able to leave Storybrooke? Surely not the man himself, but apart from his boy’s presence, he didn’t care what dangers reached beyond the borders of his little town.

 

But all that wouldn’t even matter if something happened to Rumple before the curse broke. He knew he needed to take action, and take it soon. Right now Miles wasn’t being receptive to him, but perhaps someone else would…

 

Rumple all but gracefully pulled himself up from his chair and table and limped himself back to his car.

 

It seemed he still had work to do.

 

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Rumple arrived to an empty sheriff’s station. He moved at a snail’s pace, his cane touching the floor with the carefulness of a chemist pouring a solution into a beaker. He didn’t want to alert Emma to his presence until he was certain that they’d be alone.

 

As Rumple turned the final corner to her office, he saw Emma’s wavy blonde locks peek over the horizon of a wall partition. He looked at her as she put Graham’s old walkie-talkie on her desk, smiling at the sentiment the device gave her. Rumple could tell, the election had turned out better than Emma had hoped for, both for she and Henry. The boy was back on board for Operation Cobra, as Rumple once overheard it called, and sure, it wasn’t the best position her son to be in, but it was better than the downhearted youth she had been encountering for the past few weeks! He figured she’d just tell herself to take it one day at a time in that regard. And Emma, herself? Well, she now was now responsible for an entire town!

 

…She’d let the nerves associated with such thoughts serve as something to ponder while trying to sleep on a rough night, Rumple was sure, but for right now, she seemed content enough to celebrate. Any why shouldn’t she? She had Henry’s respect, some power that could go toe-to-toe with Regina’s, and even lost a sizeable amount of the chain Gold had on her. Yeah, things were good for the moment.

 

_We’ll see how long **that** lasts._

He saw his chance while she glanced at one particular item of Graham’s. He knew from the second he placed it on the station’s coat rack last night that it would quickly receive the formerly smitten Savior’s attention.

 

“The sheriff’s jacket,” he spoke, startling her from her focus. “I thought you might want it after all.” It seemed like the token of nostalgia from her deceased friend did little to brighten her up in the face of his presence.

 

“You **do** know I’m armed, right?”

 

Rumple scoffed. The cursed wizard had nothing to fear, and he knew it. He was certain any imprisonment would be abolished before it could even take place. Besides, despite the fact that she had the entire town, his husband included, on her side as to the reason behind the fire, there was no evidence that could possibly indict him of the crime. “That’s all part of the act, my dear. Political theatre in an **actual** theatre. I knew no one was going to vote for you unless we gave you some kind of extraordinary quality, and I’m afraid saving Regina’s old arse from the fire just wasn’t going to do that. We had to give you a higher form of bravery. They had to see you defy me. And they did.” Rumple smirked in triumph.

 

“No way,” she said in disbelief. “There’s no way you planned that.”

 

“Everyone’s afraid of Regina,” he stated in a matter-of-fact fashion. “But they’re even **more** afraid of me. By standing up to me, you won them over. It was the only way.”

 

“And Miles’ dignity was worth the cost of it?”

 

“He’ll get over it in time, I assure you.”

 

“No,” Emma disagreed. “Not as easily as you think. He’s smarter than you give him credit for, and he’s not gonna forget this like a stolen cup of coffee. Something that I think you forget about Miles is that he doesn’t forget anything you do. I saw him during the debate, and I’m willing to bet that’s the first time **either** of us have ever seen him that mad. He loves you, but what you did to him, that’s not the pain that’s just going to go away on it’s own. You’re going to have to work and help him believe that the two of you can **get** **it** to go away.” Rumple furrowed his eyebrows at her. She barely knew Miles, and here she was trying to guilt him! Who was **she** to tell **him** what to do?

 

_Obviously, this recent victory has made her cocky._

 

“Miles, who, as I’m sure you’re well aware, is **my** husband,” Rumple stated. “I’ll deal with the quarrels of our marriage myself if you don’t mind.”

 

“Answer me this: Why did you do it?”

 

“We made a deal some time back, Miss Swan,” Rumple recanted. “We established that you owed me a favor. I know that can be a bad feeling, owing someone. Now that you’re Sheriff, I’m sure we’ll find some way for you to pay back what you owe me.” Rumple made his way out of the office. “Congratulations,” he muttered as he limped his way in the opposite direction.

 

“Wait,” Emma blurted out, as Rumple was just outside the office’s door. “You know, this is killing him. He hates this fight. Just as much as you do. No. Even more.”

 

“I have no doubt of that,” he softly spoke. Suddenly, the urge to leave the station was much higher than it had been before.

 

“When I first met Miles,” the blonde continued, “he couldn’t say enough nice things about you. You’re his rock. You get him. You see things about him no one else sees. He loves you, but sometimes, **I** really don’t understand why.”

 

“You said such a thing yesterday morning, and I’ll respond just as I did then: **I** don’t even know.”

 

“Maybe you should try and find out,” Emma suggested with finality, glaring at Rumple. Rumple took it as a sign to leave and begrudgingly did so.

 

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“New shipment of bait won’t be coming in for another few hours,” a man called out as a large, chrome-colored boat he was aboard pulled into the Storybrooke docks. He was a middle-aged man of average height with a salt-and-pepper colored moustache that matched his hair, any many people aboard the ship smiled with anticipation in at him, hoping that he would say the words that would absolve them of their obligation to stay outside in the nasty December weather.

 

“Everyone’s taking their breaks now!”

 

And with that, for just a few hours, they were free.

 

A wide ramp that matched the color of the ship descended, and a slew of men and women left the vessel with haste. Some of the employees had bags made of every material from paper to cloth in their hands, and others were chatting between themselves, coordinating carpools to any of Storybrooke’s nearby restaurants. One man stayed silent though in all the hustle and bustle, stalking wordlessly through the crowd with his hands in his jacket pockets and an uncharacteristically present frown on his face.

 

That man was Miles Gold.

 

Normally, Miles would’ve been overjoyed. Not only did he get extra time off work and the chance to eat something other than leftovers for lunch, but he also got to spend time with Rob on top of it.

 

Right now though, that was an opportunity the cursed pirate had absolutely no interest in taking advantage of.

 

Disappointment did not even begin to cover Miles’ response to Rumple’s actions. Shame was the much better word for it. Never, in his wildest imagination could Miles ever think that his husband would stoop this low as to set fire to Town Hall just to win an election. Robert intimidated people. He was unwavering in his collection policies as a landlord. But one thing he thought the man would **never** do was risk the safety of others in order to get his way.

 

Apparently, though, he was quite wrong.

 

This morning hadn’t been an easy one for Miles, especially at work. The lighthearted conversation that usually went on aboard the fishing vessel between he and his co-workers was replaced by nothing but an awkward silence. Miles could feel the heat of their stares aimed at him whenever his back was turned. What made it worse was that Miles didn’t even have a way to respond to it all. He couldn’t exactly apologize for his husband’s behavior, and he didn’t place enough faith in his co-workers that there’d be any positive reaction to a direct confrontation about the way they’d been treating him. For right now, all he **could** do was simply accept the awkwardness he’d no doubt have to endure for the next few days, and that everything would blow over quickly.

 

In hindsight, Granny’s was probably the worst possible place Miles could’ve chosen for lunch. It was popular, fairly busy at this time, and was most likely the place that his husband would’ve chosen to eat, had he ever decided to leave that shop of his. Still though, he knew he’d need to face the crowds sooner or later, and he was never one to push these things off much to begin with. Plus, most of his co-workers weren’t willing to take the long walk to Granny’s, even with an extended lunch period, so Miles took solace in the fact that he would get away from them all for some time.

 

_Maybe a nice lunch alone will help relax me._

It seemed, however, that Miles’ luck rivaled only his husband’s, for who was at the diner when he arrived, but Emma Swan!

 

_Of course she’d be here._

 

The blonde sat upon a stool right by the front door, biting into a piece of the Widow Lucas’ delicious roast chicken. The fisherman attempted to make a break for the door when Emma caught his presence out of the corner of her eye. She turned around on the stool and silently signaled for him to come and join her at the bar with the tilt of her head. Miles’ hesitance was quite apparent, but Emma remained insistent with another gesture, this time a pat on the bar adjacent to a free stool next to hers. Miles eyed her, but sighed as he made his way into the restaurant and over to her, careful to draw as little attention to himself as possible in the process. Upon sitting down, he looked at his companion’s meal. Her plate only had a little bit of actual food left, and the remainder of the surface was littered with a few bare chicken bones and small clumps of mashed potatoes.

 

“Missed you at the election party,” Emma spoke. She wasn’t quite smiling, but Miles could tell the blonde was trying to soften him up. For the first time today, Miles wasn’t upset at his treatment, nor was there was an urge to fight against it. Considering everything Emma had been through in the last few days, she was the absolute **last** person on the planet who deserved it right now.

 

“The sentiment’s appreciated, Swan,” Miles responded gratefully, “but I don’t think you’d be saying that so easily if you were on the receiving end of the looks I’ve been getting all morning.” Miles blinked before realizing he had yet to even apologize for the previous night’s events. “Emma,” he sighed. “I’m so sorry for what happened.”

 

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said with a shrug. “You didn’t know what Gold was up to.”

 

“You seem to put a lot of faith in me,” Miles questioned. “Rob lied to you. Why wouldn’t you assume the same could be said for me?”

 

“I’d know if you were lying. I have a superpower when it comes to that kind of stuff.” Emma’s eyes remained fixated on her drink as she pointed to her head.

 

“Superpower, huh?” That was an unexpected quirk.

 

“Had it as far back as I could remember.”

 

“Should I be concerned?”

 

“Only if you lie,” she replied.

 

_Duly noted._

 

“I can promise you you’ll get no such falsities from me,” the fisherman assured. “Certain others, unfortunately, I can’t as easily speak for.” The two grew quiet, with only a pause in said quietness as Miles gave Ruby his lunch order. Emma looked at her companion. She came out the hero in this whole situation, but Miles? He did nothing wrong, and yet was tasked with supporting the weight of Gold’s actions entirely on his shoulders.

 

“You okay,” Emma asked. Her companion smiled from her sincerity.

 

Miles sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was host an emotional outpour, but the conversation certainly didn’t steer away from that apparent direction. “I don’t get it, Swan. He does bad things sometimes. I’m not blind to it, despite what many would think, and I know he’s guilty of some very insane practices when it comes to his clients. But he’s never done anything even resembling this! This whole situation, it’s just unheard of! Humiliating! Mortifying!” Ruby brought a plate of fried cod fillet and fries, and Miles gave her an appreciative, yet apologetic smile. “Sorry for the noise.”

 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve heard worse. You ever hear Leroy in here after Granny cut him off? Gunshots sound quiet,” the waitress shrugged before walking back into the kitchen. Emma watched as Miles took the first bites out of his meal. His relationship with the pawnbroker was still an anomaly to her. The new sheriff found herself wondering just how those two managed to find each other, let alone fall in love. Everything she knew about them suggested otherwise. Gold wasn’t exactly someone who could be called loveable by anyone who spent more than two minutes with him. He stiffened the spines of everyone he knew just by entering a room. Miles, by contrast, couldn’t be more different. Miles was full of this light that could fill people with cheer with his presence just as quickly as his partner could fill them with dread.

 

“How are you two…doing…at home,” Emma quietly asked. Miles’ eyes darkened.

 

“Not well, as you may expect. He’s deluded himself into thinking that he helped you, and, you know what? Maybe in some way he did, but that wasn’t the way to do it. And I’m not taking it lying down. To make a long story short, I’m not exactly speaking to him.”

 

Emma sighed. “I got that idea too. He came by the station earlier and we talked, and he told me about how he knew that I’d reveal his plan, and that that’s how I’d really win the election.” Miles looked down at his plate and took a bite, further saddened by this new bit of information. At the same time though, he was almost a little bit happy that his husband had the courtesy to tell her the whole truth. He could’ve just as easily “Look Miles,” she sighed. “I won’t act like I know what you see in him, but what I do know is that he makes you happy. I think you two are going to get past this.”

 

“I know we will,” Miles said self-assuredly. “I just really hope that he gets it that you can’t treat people like pawns, despite what he seems to believe. I know he knows that on some level. I mean, he never treats **me** like that. The problem, as it currently stands is that he has no problem doing it to everyone else. What we have, Swan… is amazing. He makes me so happy that I find myself unable catch my breath half the time. And that’s exactly why it’s so painful when he pulls shit like this!”

 

“Well, if Gold’s anything like how you made him out to be when we first met, then you two will work it out.” Emma glanced at her cell phone as it buzzed in her hand. “Be right back. Gotta take this.” She said as she made her way outside the diner. Miles sat in silence, picking at his food. He knew they’d make up. They always did. But this time, Miles wanted it to be on his terms. Whenever they had fights like this, far too often, he let Rob win, admitting that it wasn’t his business or something like that. But something had changed with this particular incident. It was as if this voice in Miles head was screaming at him, telling him that it wasn’t going to be the same this time. His husband was to be forgiven **only** when **he** apologized and in the right way.

 

“Looks like there’s a noise complaint coming from uptown. This job’s already going all out on me and I’ve barely finished lunch on my first day. Sorry, Miles, I need to head out.” She grabbed her wallet from her jacket pocket and started putting bills on the table.

 

“Don’t worry about it. Do what you were elected to do, you hear?” Emma finished paying and was about to head out the door when Miles continued. “And Swan?”

 

She turned around and faced him. “Yeah?”

 

“Uh…thanks for listening. I doubt most people in your situation would ever talk to the husband of someone who hurt you like Rob did, let alone do so in such a sociable manner.”

 

“I’m not most people,” she shrugged.

 

“You’re quite right you’re not. You’re a friend.” After a final, brief smile from both parties, Emma took off, ready to perform her first act as sheriff, and Miles continued his lunch alone with his thoughts, now at least a bit more optimistic that things would be right again soon.

 

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Ordinarily, Rumple would’ve been glad to eat in the confines of his shop again. The store provided him plenty of privacy and spared him the displeasure of talking to people who, right now, wanted nothing to do with him. However, he had ordered in food for two meals in a row already, and he wanted something with a bit more sustenance to offer. Chinese takeout was already something he didn’t like on a regular basis. It was far too fatty for Rumple’s tastes, and having it twice in twenty-four hours was already pushing it for the pawnbroker. Something healthy would do his body good, and the opportunity to clear his head with a walk would be nice as well. Perhaps it would be on a little excursion where he could find out how to get through to Miles. He had sent texts throughout the day to the man, but it was looking more and more like they were being ignored as the afternoon turned into the early evening, and at one point, his phone had run fresh out of memory from the sheer space all the texts used up. Now he was starting to get concerned.

 

As he drove, Rumple pondered what to do. An apology was obvious, but he had a strong feeling that Miles would be able to see past any insincerities that he came up with. No, this needed to be genuine, at least on some level, but the problem was, Rumple didn’t feel that way. Not in the least. And why should he? He knew what he was doing, and got exactly the results he expected. Ultimately, no one was hurt, and his plan succeeded.

 

Rumple arrived at the diner just as the last of the dinner rush was clearing out, the departing husband and wife making sure to eye the pawnbroker as they did so. The blond ignored them and took a seat at a booth by the side of the eatery. He noted the absence of the restaurant’s two most notorious employees, but he couldn’t exactly blame them. It was around that awkward time where people were generally finished with dinner, but there were still another couple of hours wait until the evening drinkers made their way to the bar, leaving Granny’s all but deserted for the time being. Rumple was rather happy about that. Both heaven and hell knew he didn’t want to be around when those drunken dwarfs started boozing around. It wouldn’t exactly do him well to remind everyone about his business during the election.

 

Rumple couldn’t help but hope that Granny would be his server. She always took care of him quickly, if not without a bit of a snippety attitude as she did it. Rumple had guessed it was just an attempt to get him out of her restaurant sooner, and Rumple never took issue with the behavior. Yes, he and the Widow Lucas got along about as well as he did with anyone in Storybrooke, especially today, and with any luck, she’d be getting him dinner within the very near future.

 

Had Rumple mentioned just how bad his luck was this week already?

 

Less than half a minute after the diner’s most recent patron arrived, a far too familiar young woman popped out from the kitchen, clad in a red and white uniform with a dampened cleaning rag in hand. Rumple didn’t see her enter the room and continued enjoying the quietness of his own thoughts. Ruby, however, immediately saw Rumple and rolled her eyes.

 

“Mr. Gold,” she said, getting the blond’s attention and receiving a raised eyebrow from the man for her troubles. “Ordinary pawnbroker, landlord, and, as of recently, arsonist. Always a pleasure. What’ll it be?”

 

“Be careful, Miss Lucas,” Rumple warned. “You don’t want me to be stingy on the tip, now do you?”

 

“Hmph,” Ruby grunted. “It’s not as if you’ve ever tipped that well in the first place.”

 

“A tradition that I apparently won’t be breaking tonight. Just a grilled chicken sandwich, please. Extra pickles.”

 

Ruby put up a smile. “Coming right up.” The young lady scribbled Rumple’s order on a piece of paper, and brought it into the kitchen. Rumple could faintly make out Ruby and Granny talking, about what was a pretty easy guess. A moment later, Ruby re-emerged and began gliding the rag she held across the bar’s messy countertop.

 

“You know.” The waitress said as she polished the bar, earning herself the turning of Rumple’s head. “He was here earlier.”

 

“I’m afraid, despite your theories that there’s something more to me, that I’m not much of a mind reader, Miss Lucas.” He excused. “Would you kindly clarify exactly **who** you’re talking about?”

 

“Miles, duh.” She stopped scrubbing and looked at Rumple. “Let me tell you a little something, Mr. Gold. I’ve worked in this diner almost every day for as long as I could hold a dishrag, and when you work here, you start to pick up patterns. In the time I’ve been here, I’ve **never** seen Miles eat lunch at this place without you.”

 

“Care to explain where you think you’re going with this line of thinking?” Rumple hated how she riled him.

 

“All I’m saying is it seems like you’ve gotten yourself into a pretty nasty place with him.”

 

“Really,” Rumple asked with mock-surprise. “It hadn’t occurred to me through the glares of your patrons, and the fact that Miles hasn’t so much as **texted** me all day.”

 

_What led me to say **that** out loud?_

 

“I suppose it would be fair to say that we’re in a bit of a bad spot at the moment,” he grumbled.

 

“In all fairness, you **did** do a bad thing. **Several** bad things, as a matter of fact!”

 

“I think that’s a bit of an overestimation. I did **a** bad thing. Not several.”

 

“Really? Because that’s not what I’m seeing!”

 

“Please enlighten me as to exactly what you see.”

 

“Where do I even start?” Ruby asked, flabbergasted. “Arson? Manipulation? Nearly ruining Emma’s reputation? Lying to the town? Lying to **Miles**?”

 

Rumple put up a hand and stopped her. “You need not continue. However, I feel the need to ask: what exactly are you trying to do?”

 

“Help you fix things with your husband,” the waitress stated plainly. “He and Emma were talking, and Miles really doesn’t seem like he’ll be in any mood to forgive you unless you actually start feeling bad about what you did back there.”

 

“You think I don’t know that,” the pawnbroker sneered. “I can handle my own marriage by myself, thank you, and the last thing I need is the help of some little diner girl.” Ruby sneered at him, but said nothing. She went back to cleaning until the ding from the kitchen went off to signify that Rumple’s sandwich was done.

 

They stayed silent, even as Ruby served the pawnbroker his food before resuming cleaning the countertop. Rumple stewed on what the waitress said, grateful that she seemed to decide not to disturb him more and more as the minutes passed, instead putting her efforts on a particularly difficult-to-remove stain instead. However, just as his luck had been for the past few days, it didn’t last.

 

“Mind if I ask you a question?”

 

Rumple rolled his eyes and sighed, annoyed that, once more, his dinner was interrupted. He had hoped his little insult would be the end of this conversation once and for all. “And what would that question be?”

 

“Does Miles even mean **anything** to you?” Rumple blinked from confusion. The question wasn’t exactly out of the blue, but it was still an odd one.

 

“Miles is **everything** to me.” Rumple lied. If Ruby saw past the lie, she didn’t show it.

 

“If that’s true, then maybe you could stand to listen to him. He wants you to be sorry about what you did. Maybe it’d be a good idea to think about it. Go over your actions. See if you **do** regret anything! You may surprise yourself.”

 

Rumple stayed quiet for the moment. No, he really didn’t feel sorry about what it was he did. He could care less about Town Hall. The people inside, he cared a bit more for, but not much. They were both his tools and obstacles, whose dealings with would be tolerated until the curse broke, and hopefully, not a moment longer.

 

At the same time, however, he acknowledged that for the moment, they were undeniable presences in his life, as was Miles. Angering any of them did little to benefit him in the short run.

 

_Maybe I could’ve done something different…_

Sure, it would’ve been a pain to think of another plan, but certainly, with his self-assured intelligence being what it was, Rumple could’ve come up with something that would’ve won Emma the election and had the added bonus of **not** endangering his relationships with his most important pawns.

_Or just not gotten caught._

“I think you might be right,” Rumple said, muttering his agreement as to mask his delight.

 

“So you regret it?” Rumple stewed on the word ‘regret.’ In the most basic sense of the word, he supposed he **did** regret his actions. His current situation was annoying enough that he regretted getting into it. He supposed that could be enough Miles. Was it what the waitress wanted to hear? No, undeniably not.

 

“Yeah. I think I do.”

 

“Really,” Ruby asked, surprise evident in her voice.

 

“What can I say? Your advice was not without merit.” She looked at him skeptically, and immediately, he knew what he did wrong. For someone who had just come to the conclusion that he regretted starting a fire that could’ve killed two people, he seemed far too relaxed.

 

“How about remorse,” she questioned. “Feeling that too?”

 

Rumple hesitated. Regret and remorse were two different things, the latter a much more emotionally demanding feeling than the former. Regret simply involved a pity of his circumstances. Remorse was an emotional pain as response to his actions. He may have regretted the situation he was in on a practical level, but not at all on an emotional one.

 

Still, he had to give an answer.

 

“That’s for me to know and Miles to find out.” Rumple took out his wallet and put a $20 right in the middle of his table. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I have to be off.” He slid out of his booth and limped out of the restaurant before Ruby could even say anything else. All that was left of the pawnbroker was a rather generous payment for his meal, a half finished chicken sandwich, and the scents of pickles and a dusty store fused together, wafting through the air.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Rumple’s return home nearly mirrored the sights, smells, and sounds the man encountered the previous night when he entered the pink and green house. He once again walked into the den, and just as he did yesterday, he saw Miles sitting on the couch. The man was no longer glaring, but just staring at the television. His eyes looked almost dead, as if he were a zombie. Miles no doubt sensed his presence, yet made no effort to look at him. He took a deep breath, and slowly made his way over to the sofa.

 

“Can we talk,” Rumple asked. Miles merely nodded his head before moving to make space on the navy blue couch. Rumple sat down by Miles’ side. Their outer calves touched, and Rumple didn’t react to the touch.

 

_Suck it up, Rumple. It’ll be over soon enough._

 

“I…uh… I’ve been thinking a lot today about what happened, and…” Rumple hesitated. He grimaced at the mere thought of ever apologizing to Hook, no matter if the man was conscious of his true identity or not. Still, he realized that what needed to be done simply needed to be done. He sighed. “I think I realize that while I’m glad that I was able to help Miss Swan win the election, perhaps my methods could’ve stood to be more…humane.” Miles seemed to mull over his husband’s words. His upper teeth bit his lower lip, and his gaze was downcast at the floor.

 

“I was talking with Emma,” he finally said after a pregnant pause.

 

“As was I.”

 

“She told me that you did.” Rumple wasn’t surprised.

 

“She trusts you.” It came out as more of a fact than an opinion.

 

“She does,” he confirmed. “That’s why I believed her claims made at the debate. She didn’t give me a reason not to.”

 

Another bout of silence ensued.

 

“I really messed up, didn’t I?”

 

“Aye,” Miles responded simply. Rumple worried for a moment that that was to be the end of the conversation and silently held his breath. He became stressed at the thought of another sleepless night, another day of abnormalities for their relationship, another day for people to notice that something, or someone, was wrong around here. Another day for them to discover that **he** was the wrong one in town.

 

Fortunately though, Miles continued on. “Rob, being angry at you has been the furthest thing in the world from easy, my love. You’re my best mate, and the entire day, all I wanted to do was rip the previous night’s story apart to you and laugh the pain away like we always do. It tore me apart knowing that the source of my rage was none other than the one person on Earth I trusted to help relieve it.”

 

Rumple felt himself getting smaller, the unsettling feeling from just a minute returning with a horrible crescendo.

 

Suddenly, just as Rumple’s thoughts brought him closest to despair and surrender, Miles lightly smiled, and his right arm looped loosely around Rumple’s waist.

 

“Which is why I’m so happy to see that you didn’t just let it go to the wayside. I can tell, this is something that you’ve really reflected on, and I think you even regret it too,” Miles responded, chuckling at the close of his comment.

 

“I do,” Rumple lied. Well, it wasn’t exactly a **lie**. He did regret it, at least in a sense, but he could hardly call himself remorseful, the emotion he was willing to wager that Miles actually wanted him to be.

 

Miles eyes twinkled. “You have no idea what a relief it is to hear that.” Miles took Rumple’s hand into his own, smiling at how warm and tiny it felt in his grasp. “The rest, we’ll work on together, one step at a time.”

 

“Does this mean I’m forgiven,” the pawnbroker asked hopefully.

 

The black haired man smirked. “Eh, why the hell not?” Miles pulled Rumple closer and kissed his nose. Rumple took Miles’ shoulders into his hands and Miles arms encircled the older man’s waist, pulling him into a tight embrace, one Rumple found easier to sink into and return than any other the two had shared before.

 

_Peace at last._

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A half an hour had passed. Rumple was now snuggling beside Miles, Miles’ natural musk permeating every molecule of air he breathed in. The return of the familiar feeling was so comfortable, Rumple felt himself nearly falling asleep, his exhaustion from his long day at last allowed to be acted upon. He wouldn’t have even minded it really, in fact. It wouldn’t have been the first time Miles carried or assisted him to bed, or they could even share the couch for the night. Either option would be advantageous and a perfect display to signify the end of their feud and the return of their, albeit one-sided, loving relationship. Rumple allowed his eyes to droop. They were about halfway closed, and soon to be lowered even further. Suddenly, though, he stopped, for a memory from the other day resurfaced in Rumple’s mind as he thought of the aforementioned “loving relationship.”

 

_“Seriously, what the hell does Miles see in you?”_

 

_“ **I** don’t even know.”_

 

Emma’s question from the morning of the election made Rumple’s head itch with curiosity. It pulled at his eyebrows, refusing to let the man rest.

 

Rumple’s response was true. He had, in actuality, no idea what it was about him that captured Miles’ heart in the first place all those years ago. Even **Robert** never really knew the answer to that question, and it was something that used to puzzle his cursed counterpart to no end. The curse was the obvious reason, sure, but Rumple believed the answer offered a deeper explanation than that. Miles seemed too happy with their relationship to not have his own idea of what their love meant to him.

 

But why should **he** be concerned? Miles was just a glorified puppet, only useful until the curse broke! What did he care about the romantic motivations behind someone who would be nothing more than an enemy the second that the curse broke? Even ignoring that, the two of them had made up! There was nothing he could gain from this knowledge.

 

Things were alright with Miles now.

 

He didn’t need to know.

 

That, of course, didn’t change the fact that he wanted to.

 

He bit his lip. Maybe it was because Emma and Ruby had both brought it up in such a small span of time. Maybe it was Robert Gold, who after years of asking himself, finally wanted an answer. Maybe it was just his own inner darkness, looking for something to use against Hook when the curse finally broke.

 

_Or maybe it’s just the tickle of curiosity, never ceasing until it’s graced by the massage of discovery._

 

_Well, it couldn’t hurt to find out._

 

“Why do you love me?”

 

Miles looked at him stunned, and blinked a few times before speaking.

 

“Excuse me,” he asked, not quite comprehending. His fingers pushed the power controls on the TV, and with a small, static-like sound, the picture faded to black, forgotten in favor of a much more engaging topic. Rumple shifted himself so that they were once again seated side-by-side.

 

“I’m the most hated man in Storybrooke, and for good reason, we have very little in common between the two of us, I’m manipulative and intimidating, I’m significantly older than you, and I’m overall just not a very nice person, and yet, you somehow find it in your heart to love, no, adore me. I just want to know why that is. What is it about me that attracted you? What is it that makes it so that you can barely keep your hands off me? What was it that made you decide that you wanted to wake to my face every morning for the rest of your life?”

 

Miles looked at Rumple as if the older man had grown three extra heads.

 

Then he smiled.

 

“Because while I see those things, I also see so much good in you.”

 

Now it was Rumple’s turn to look at Miles as if he was an alien.

 

“Care to elaborate a bit more on that one, dearie?”

 

“Gladly,” Miles agreed. “In the simplest terms, my love for you comes down to one thing. I never got the chance to say this during our wedding vows, since so many people were there. No wedding reception should be starting off with the entire party offended. I guess I never had nor gave myself the chance to say it, but I’ll say it now: no one respects me like you do.” There it was. Six words. Such a simple reason. But it wasn’t enough for Rumple. Not by a long shot.

 

“They all like you,” he argued. “You’re always asked to go out drinking, or watch some game at someone’s house.”

 

“Ah. But there’s a difference between the like and respect. You know that well, my dear. Here’s an example for you. Most people in this town barely make an effort to mask their unease that I don’t use a prosthetic. I could see it I their eyes as it first became more apparent that I was to only use this brace. I could hear it in their thinly veiled solutions and recommendations. For them, their coziness in seeing a false hand was more important than my comfort. You never did that, because you know it doesn’t sit well with me. For me, it’d be nothing more than a daily reminder of that lost limb.” Rumple still wasn’t satisfied, and Miles saw it immediately. “You want more?”

 

“If you have ‘em.” Rumple insisted.

 

Miles snorted. “Quite a power trip I’m setting you up for, but alright. You know how my brother Connor died when I was seventeen, right?” Rumple nodded. “Well, after his death, I never felt comfortable being close to other people. Everyone always thought I was too reckless or cocky to do or think about anything serious. They liked me well enough to hang out with in short bursts, which was fine, albeit a bit insulting at times. It took me time to realize it, but eventually I came to terms with the fact that this attitude towards me didn’t just start with Connor’s death; it even that way when my brother was still around. After I came to that conclusion, I got sad, miserable even. I saw people’s condescending natures wherever I went, and eventually, it just really got to me. I never stretched myself out like I used to again. Or rather, I didn’t until I met you. Remember when we first met?” Miles arm looped around Rumple waist and tugged at him, pulling him closer, taking him in.

 

“How could I forget?”

 

“I knew when I met you that you weren’t one for meaningless chatter. If you wanted conversation, it was to be real, substantial stuff. Especially with what happened to Lara and Oliver on top of it, I knew your patience was minimal at best. Still though, as we talked, you gave me the attention I needed, and weren’t afraid to be serious with me. Losing my hand was quite a shift: one I knew was going to change my life forever. Everyone at that hospital was just concerned with keeping me happy until I got out of there to do God knew what. I may have put up a brave face, but in truth, I was scared. I didn’t even know the first thing about what changes I’d need to make, and no one was taking my concerns seriously.

 

You, my love, and you alone, asked questions that everyone else didn’t have the heart to ask me, and even better, you were willing to help me find answers to them. I remember, it must’ve been a day or two after I got there. The nurse had just finished giving us some painkillers and was about to leave. I stopped her and asked something along the lines of, ‘Do you know of any carpenters or specialists who can help me with my apartment when I get out of here?’ She just kept that same, insincere smile and said ‘No, but you’ll have plenty of time to figure that out later. Don’t think too much about it,’ before leaving with nothing more than a hearty chortle, as if some magic fairy was gonna pop out of thin air and do it for me!” Rumple remembered that moment. It was the first time he ever saw such a rage-fueled fire in Miles eyes. It was then when his cursed persona knew that Miles was actually thinking about his predicament, and was truly scared of whatever was to come in his future. It was only after Rumple told him about Marco the handyman that Miles showed any sign of relief. “But you helped me, and asked questions.”

 

“What’s your point, Miles?” Miles looked at him flabbergasted, as if to say ‘Haven’t you been paying attention?’

 

“My **point** is that we see the parts of each other that no one bothers to look for; the parts that most don’t even believe exist. You see my mind, and I, in turn, see your heart. Are they buried under a lot? Sure, but honestly, apart from children, no one truly keeps those parts out for all to see. We understand that, and we look for those parts because we know when we find them, that they’re real, and pure.”

 

Rumple was silent. He knew that this was all a ruse, a fake life and a fake love to replace the one Regina took from Hook.

 

But Robert Gold? He wasn’t so sure.

 

From somewhere deep down in Rumple’s coal black heart, he could hear his cursed counterpart scream his love for his husband. Here Miles was, baring his soul out to Rumple, recanting tales he knew very well, but this time, from a new light.

 

Before he could even question it, Rumple threw his arms around Miles. Miles immediately returned the hug, and they stayed in each other’s arms that way for quite some time. Finally though, Rumple pulled back. He gave his husband a smile and pushed himself to sit upright. It had been a long night, and Rumple wanted sleep. He moved to stand up. After sitting for so long, Rumple knew his withered, limp-stricken legs were going to be weak, so the blond put the bulk of his weight onto his cane as he pushed himself off of the couch. Unfortunately, the momentum he created from the motion caused his cane to push forward far more than Rumple needed it to. Before he could even blink, Rumple’s cane lost its center of balance and he started falling.

 

Only to stop just as quickly as he began.

 

Rumple landed squarely in Miles’ lap, the latter man’s arm around his waist.

 

“Don’t worry, love. I’ve got you.” Miles assured. He observed their rather compromising position before smiling wickedly. “And I think I’ll keep you too.”

 

“Will you now?”

 

“Now, and for as long as you’ll have me,” he promised.

 

Rumple felt heat in his cheeks.

 

_How am I even supposed to **respond** to that?_

 

_Well, apart from the obvious way, I suppose._

 

_It’s not like I haven’t done so in a while. I can manage one little peck._

 

Slowly, Rumple closed his eyes, and tilted his face forward, Miles doing the same until the two were engaged in a kiss.

 

It wasn’t meant to be much more than a simple pressing of lips. Sure, it was rather elongated and Miles’ tongue found its way inside Rumple mouth, but since when **didn’t** those things happen? That was just how they kissed.

 

But then Miles got creative.

 

He started out alternating between wrapping his tongue around Rumple’s and tickling the other tongue’s more…sensitive parts. That was nothing new. However, that’s where the familiar ended. Miles began stretching his tongue further into his partner’s mouth, and upon reaching what he deemed was a satisfactory stretch, pressed the tip of his tongue to the top of Rumple’s mouth and gently started licking.

 

Rumple’s body responded before his mind was ever given the chance to. His pulse skyrocketed, he pushed his face closer to his husband’s and he moaned into the kiss.

 

**Really moaned.**

 

He caressed Miles hair and took a deep breath. Salt water and the remnants of his shampoo graced his nose. At the moment, it smelt as amazing as bouquet of roses or a tray of warm brownies fresh out of the oven. Rumple’s tongue began to try it’s hand at the moves Miles’ tongue was making, still free of it’s owner’s control. Miles seemed to really like that, a seductive growl leaving him.

 

Finally, after a long minute of passionate kissing, Rumple’s mind caught up to his body.

 

As soon as Rumple remembered himself, his shock took over. They had kissed, countless times in fact, but the way Miles’ tongue skittered and touched Rumple’s tongue, mouth, and lips at that moment, it was just, well there was no other way to describe it other than sensual!

 

Purely sensual.

 

And Delicious.

 

**And Erotic.**

 

**And Rumple was returning it!**

 

**_What the hell am I doing????_ **

 

When Miles finally pulled back his lips from Rumple’s, the older man found himself dazed and breathless.

 

“Amazing,” Rumple muttered what, in any other circumstance where he was more mentally conscious, he would’ve kept in his mind to be heard by his ears alone.

 

Miles scoffed. “As if you could expect anything less from me. Or am I losing my touch?” He broke out into laughter. Rumple uneasily chuckled alongside his husband, trying in vain to shift his eyes towards anything else in the room other than the very man who deserved that same attention.

 

“No. Of course not.” It was only then that Rumple noticed how close they were. Miles’ hand and stub loosely held either side of Rumple’s hips, not unlike where they were during every other kiss they shared. However, this time, Rumple’s arms contributed to their closeness. His thumbs brushed against each other as they rested beside the small of Miles’ back, his cane lying forgotten on the floor.

 

“Good. Ready to get some sleep,” Miles yawned. “I was almost thinking I’d have to carry you upstairs earlier with the way you were falling asleep. Not that I would’ve minded. Nor will I ever,” he added sincerely. The younger man picked up his lover’s cane and helped him to his feet. They stood closely. Just a few more inches and they’d be standing cheek to cheek.

 

“Indeed.” Rumple answered quietly.

 

With that, they took off for the wooden staircase, an array of feelings, both hidden and apparent, encasing Rumple further with every step he took.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ooh! Juicy!!!! Told you we were going to be hitting the plot hard! We’re finally seeing the first signs of the curse unraveling from Miles’ end. I’ve had a head canon for a while that when comparing the EF characters to their cursed selves, they’re both very similar, minus one big change that alters them. For example, for Snow, her cursed persona is a lot less outspoken. You can see this in how, in Season 1, she was helping Emma and Henry very indirectly and non-confrontationally. For Miles, I’m writing that it’s his forgiving nature. You’ll see more of what I mean when Killian enters the scene, but for now, I don’t want to spoil much, so I’ll just leave it at that.
> 
> Reviewing would be nice and you can get a sneak peek of the next chapter, which by the way, is pretty far along at the time of posting. Just write “SNEAK PEEK PLEASE” in your review on my fanfiction.net account! If I knew anything about PM's I would do it for AO3 too!


	11. Unexpected Surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or any of its characters
> 
> A/N: Holy hell! Thanks for all the reviews!!!!! Seriously, you all are amazing, and I’m truly humbled by all the support, as well as all the thought than went into a lot of these reviews! I love you all, and let’s see if we can keep it up!!!! :D
> 
> So, despite my best efforts, it’s looks like I made a bit of a continuity error. I don’t know why, but for the longest time, I thought the Milah incident happened three hundred years ago, when in reality, it was somewhere around one to two centuries ago. I’m going to stick with the three hundred years just for consistency’s sake going forward, but I do deeply apologize to my readers for the mishap.
> 
> In more show-related news, this season has been intense! Great twists all around! I personally liked Lancelot, so I’m happy to see him back. The Bear and the Bow is my new favorite Rumbelle episode, and it got me back on board to the ship (Season 4 was just a mess with them, fully on Rumple’s part in my personal opinion).
> 
> Wow! This chapter ended up being a lot longer than I expected, and I’m not really sure how it happened. In the blink of an eye, ten pages became twenty-five pages! Ah well! More for you guys! 
> 
> Enjoy!

**Unexpected Surprises**

 

The sun rose onto a cloud filled sky as it lit up the town of Storybrooke, Maine. It had been five days since Rumple and Miles’ argument had ended, and things, for the most part, seemed to be going back to normal, much to the former’s surprising contentment.

 

As much as Rumple loathed admitting it, he missed having a friendly face to come home to for those two nights. Miles’ gestures and attitude made Rumple feel like a king every time he entered their house, and for as short as their fight ultimately was, it felt a lot harder going through the time without the cursed pirate’s support.

 

He certainly wasn’t getting it from anyone else. Ever since the evening of the debate, the townspeople’s fear of him seemed to dramatically lessen, and the glares he received as he walked the streets only grew in numbers and strength. Sure, Ruby had talked to him and ended up giving Rumple the advice he needed to finally make amends with his husband, but who knew how long her kindness would last for? Not long, Rumple theorized. He even doubted the “bravery” of the Storybrooke denizens would last too much longer. Once he started collecting rent again next week, Rumple was confident that their fears would return very soon afterwards.

 

Hell, he was even able to persuade Emma not to hold his actions during the election against him. All it took was the temptation known as the identity of Nicolas and Ava Zimmer’s father as leverage, and the Savior was willing to ‘tolerate’ him, as she put it. Sure, she was rather snippy when it came to that particular deal, but Rumple was only too happy to overlook it when faced with her complacency. At the very least, she was pleased to hear about the end of his and Miles’ fight, and that her friend was doing well.

 

However, his satisfaction concerning Miles’ returned affection went hand-in-hand with dread, as one moment replayed over and over in the deepest recesses of his brain.

 

That kiss.

 

For days, he tried to forget about it, how breathtaking it was, and how the passion from it had not only made Rumple’s guard drop momentarily, but that it had enough power to actually allow the man to return it. Nonetheless, despite his best efforts, the moment found its way deep into Rumple’s memory and emerged whenever Rumple wanted to think of it the least, as if it was some catchy gum commercial jingle that would just never fully go away.

It was torture to think about how he actually enjoyed it. Nothing but pure torture. Rumple kept reminding himself, this was **Hook** ; the same man who had stolen Milah from both him and Baelfire! And here he was, tasting the man like he was a freshly baked cookie! What made the whole thing all the crueler was how he had to endure this sickening mixture of disgust and pleasure day in and day out, with only himself to blame. He didn’t understand when or how it happened, but Miles’ kisses had overnight become the most intoxicating thing he had ever had to undergo.

 

But as bad as every day Rumple had had to live under this curse was, today was sure to be the hardest to stomach.

 

It was Miles’ birthday.

 

There would be no escaping the man. He had to take the day off work; he and Miles had done it every other year to the point where it was nothing less than a tradition for their tiny family. Year after year, they would dedicate the entire day to each other. Sometimes, Robert would’ve planned a party for his husband, and actually convinced some of Miles’ friends to put up with their most detested landlord for an evening so it could happen. Other times, they would have a day out on the town by themselves. But the one thing that never changed despite their many years following this tradition was that they were rarely not touching. Whether it be through held hands, puckered lips, or touching…other parts, they spent most of the day connected somehow. Robert Gold enjoyed it immensely. Rumplestiltskin however, sure didn’t.

 

Well, until recently, that was.

 

And that made Rumple cringe with repulsion.

 

As for what they were going to do today, Rumple had the itinerary down step by step. He had been planning the day out for months. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. **Robert** had been planning it for months. Rumple simply followed those plans while downsizing the parts that he felt he could afford not to do.

 

Namely, sex.

 

It was true that Miles had not brought up the topic of sex since their conversation from the previous month. They had engaged in most other manner of romantic touches, but it seemed like Miles now put the responsibility of engaging the act in his husband’s hands. However, Rumple knew it had to be on the other man’s mind and what better day to ask for such intimate acts than on his birthday? Yes, he had grown to tolerate Miles’ amorous moments, and in some cases, grown used to or even enjoyed them, but intercourse was still not even in the same stratosphere as everything Rumple was willing to do for the sake of their “marriage.”

 

But Rumple had an idea on how to prevent those requests from ever being uttered from his husband’s lips. He worked out a schedule based on his cursed counterpart’s original plans to keep Miles busy and entertained for the entire day. They would be outside the house; walking in the park, eating lunch at Granny’s, seeing movies at the theater, and finally, a late dinner with **plenty** of drinks for the birthday boy. Yes, by the time Rumple was done with Miles, he knew his husband would fall dead asleep long before they even got to the bedroom.

 

Yes. Victory, at last, would be his.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

It was much colder this morning than usual.

 

That should’ve been the first red flag.

 

Despite the absence of their alarm clock’s beeps, Rumple woke at more or less the same time that he always did. Miles was sprawled over him, even more so than normal, but it was so cold that Rumple couldn’t find it in him the strength to care. Shortly after Rumple opened up his eyes, Miles followed suit.

 

Immediately, Rumple’s plan went into action.

 

“Happy Birthday,” Rumple whispered as Miles eyes fully opened before closing the already small distance between his and Miles’ lips. Miles’s stub pushed at the bottom of Rumple’s chin, deepening the kiss, as he hummed his gratitude. Rumple’s lips felt the push of a familiar tongue, and parted to let it in. Rumple tried to stop any tomfoolery on Miles’ part by keeping his tongue close to his mouth’s entryway, but Miles simply caressed the tip of it, which ended up only feeling better for Rumple. A moan escaped him, and the cursed wizard desperately tried to fool himself for the remainder of the kiss that it was a good idea.

 

_Low…profile…_

_Low…profile…_

_How does he **do** this to me? We’ve been kissing for decades, already! He shouldn’t be able to surprise me like this! _

 

Miles released himself and Rumple from the kiss only when the need for air was too strong to deny. He kept them close, however, his arm curling up next to the small of Rumple’s back.

 

“Thanks babe,” he said following a few deep breaths. “Be honest: Do I look all that much older?” He raised an eyebrow and smirked teasingly.

 

Rumple put up a smile. “It’s like you’ve barely aged a day since we met.” He felt a foreign, yet all-too familiar arm wrap around his waist tighter. He tapped a finger on the younger man’s nose, and smiled. “I hope you’re ready, because I have quite the day in store for us.”

 

“Wouldn’t doubt it for a second.” Miles leaned in and stole another kiss from Rumple, the man all too aware of what was going on, but helpless to do anything other than chastely return it. Suddenly, before Miles could attempt to kiss his partner any more, he shivered. “Brrr,” he sounded out. “It’s freezing today.” Rumple agreed. His head felt more like an icicle than a living part of his body. “I’m going to go grab some coffee. Coming?”

 

_At least that’s over._

 

“Right behind you.” The couple got out of bed, and exited the room. Before they could even reach the staircase, though, they saw a white, powder-like substance fall from the sky from outside the hallway window. They looked to each other.

 

“Uh oh,” Miles said before starting down the stairs.

 

Rumple frowned as he shadowed the younger man. He and Miles watched a weather report last night, but he could’ve sworn the snow wasn’t due for another day or two. This could be a hindrance. He tried to stay calm. Yes, he had heard reports of a snowstorm, but surely, it couldn’t have been **that** bad, right?

 

His question was answered soon enough as his feet touched the bottom of the last stair. He saw Miles standing across the way in the dining room, staring out the large glass window adjacent to the door. The cursed pirate gestured for Rumple to come and look at what seemed to be taking up all of his attention.

 

The couple stood in the dining room, both awestruck at the sight before them.

 

Outside the window, the snow was already four feet high.

 

And only piling higher.

 

Yes, the snow was stacking, and it was stacking fast, with no shovel or snow blower in sight to combat it. Rumple couldn’t even see another person through the thick white blanket of weather that covered the outside, only the roof of his car.

 

Rumple grimaced as the awful truth dawned upon him:

 

They were snowed in.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Time seemed to all but stop as the realization hit Rumple. Months of planning, money prepared to be spent, and expectations set.

 

All gone.

 

“Looks like we won’t be sharing that day you had planned out,” Miles mentioned.

 

Rumple grimaced at the thought.

 

_Oh Merlin, no._

It was just the two of them. Stuck in an already fairly isolated house. No one was going to go out of their way to visit them in this weather, Miles’ birthday or not.

 

“I believe we can safely assume that.” Rumple, for a moment, lost focus of his act entirely, and his words came out much more bitterly than anticipated. Miles took it a different way than expected, and looked upon his lover with eyes glistened with sympathy.

 

“Rob, I’m sorry about your plans. But, hey, we can still have a fun day.” Miles gave him a reassuring smile, hoping that the other man might return it.

 

Rumple forced himself to make a smile of his own. “Don’t worry about it,” he dismissed. “In any case, it’s **your** birthday. What do you suggest we do?” Miles scratched at his chin in thought for a few moments. Rumple had almost started to move towards the dining room table when suddenly, a mischievous smirk crossed the other man’s face. Rumple bit his lip. “Come up with something?”

 

“Indeed I did,” Miles answered in a matter-of-fact fashion. Rumple forced himself to relax.

 

“Well, are you just going to leave me in suspense?”

 

“Of course not, my love. So, here’s what I make of our current predicament. It’s a rather frosty day outside, as you can plainly see,” he said, pointing out the large dining room window, “we both don’t have anywhere else better to be, and we have, at our disposal, a plush couch in the den just begging to be filled. I suggest we make use of it. What do you say? Shall we get close and toasty?” Miles strode closer to his husband, taking a gentle hold of his lover’s chin as he pulled him nearer to him. “They **do** say after all that body warmth is undeniably the most effective way to stay warm,” he murmured huskily into Rumple’s ear.

 

The desire to pull back and decline was great, but Rumple was far from ignorant to the fact that such an action was not currently an option. He couldn’t really say no to the suggestion. It **was** Miles’ birthday. Besides, he wanted to snuggle on the couch. It was a far cry from whatever could follow lying in bed together, and both men knew from experience that the dark blue piece of furniture nestled in their sitting room lent itself poorly to any kind of sexual activity.

 

“Sounds great,” Rumple spoke. Miles grinned at the response, and slowly separated himself from his husband.

 

“Fantastic. I’m going to grab some things to make us more…comfortable before we settle in.” Miles exited the room and climbed up the stairs, leaving Rumple alone to thinks about the day that was sure to be in store for him.

 

Rumple felt a pit the size of a cantaloupe in his chest. His plans, in less than three minutes, were dashed, and now there was no telling what Miles, or his libido, would ask of him today. He walked into the sitting room and looked at the couch and its narrow cushions. Physical contact would be entirely unavoidable today, even more so than his former plans had promised. He could already picture Miles’ hot breath on his skin, chest hairs tickling Rumple’s belly, and stubble pricking his cheeks like sewing needles. And that morning breath! And all that would be ongoing for hours on end.

 

Rumple allowed himself to enter a daze in an effort to calm himself down. He’d need to be relaxed today if he wanted to have any hope of fooling Miles. For as much as he loathed the man, Miles was smarter than Rumple had previously thought him to be, and with their proximity being as close as it was looking to be today, Rumple knew he had to make his act convincing. He started thinking about good things about Miles. Much to his surprise, the answers came a little bit easier than expected.

 

For one thing, Miles, as stated before, was rather smart. He got Rumple’s sense of wit, and was usually able to make a decent comeback to whatever he said.

 

For another, he always seemed to talk just the right amount. Hardly was there ever an awkward silence between them, and just as rarely did Miles ever talk Rumple’s ear off. The man took social cues rather well.

 

The more Rumple thought, the longer the list grew. From the types of conversation topics Miles would bring up, to his cooking abilities, Rumple had found that quite a few nice things could be said about his husband.

 

And then there were those kisses. Rumple, still in the haziness of his daze, licked his lips. The meshing of their lips was quite nice, and easily something to look forward to from the other man.

 

However, that seemed to be all that was needed to snap Rumple back to reality.

 

**_LOOK FORWARD TO?_ **

****

Rumple shuddered, and felt his balance waver. He quickly placed a hand on the couch’s arm to better support himself.

****

_Since when do I look forward to **anything** that involves **him**?_

It was horrifying. Rumple knew he and Miles had been getting along better since his memories had returned, but he hated the fact that it had grown to this extent; that some disgusting part of him actually enjoyed even **one** aspect of Miles’ affection. Tolerating the man on a mental level, he could live with, but a physical level? That was too far!

 

But looking at his options, what could he do? They were to be stuck together today like glue. There would be no chance to boost his repulsion when Miles lips would be on his several times an hour! Not only would he have to endure the wrath of Miles’ kisses, he’d have to pretend to like them too.

 

And he was worrying that the inclination to pretend was dwindling by the second.

 

Rumple winced.

 

_Oh, Merlin! What did I do to deserve this?_

_…Murders and extortions aside._

 

“Let’s see here,” Rumple heard Miles say as he entered the den, a bundle of cushions and comforters in his arms. “Blankets: check. Pillows: check. Soul mate.” Miles winked and planted a kiss squarely on Rumple’s cheek. “Check.” The two began placing everything Miles was holding nicely onto the sofa. When it was done, the two looked at each other expectantly, waiting for a prompt for what to do next. It must’ve taken all of a few seconds for Miles to lose his patience, for as soon as they ended, he took action.

 

Rumple always had the option to wear a shirt when in bed with Miles, one he took great advantage of in the months following his release from the Dark Curse. However, as he saw said man taking off his tee in a way that Rumple could only describe as a poor attempt at seductiveness and especially with his earlier proposal for shared body heat in mind, the cursed wizard knew he would be granted no such luxury today. Rumple began to unbutton his shirt, thankful that he saw Miles had the good sense not to strip himself down any further.

 

As soon as the cloth left his body, chills began running up his spine. His and Miles’ house, for all its many amenities, lacked an adequate heating and cooling systems. This led to frigid winters and brutal summers for the couple year after year. There was some dumb excuse every time for them not to upgrade to central, whether it was time constraints, illnesses, or any other reason that could possibly come to mind. Thus, they suffered, only given relief by the warm, yet breezy climates that accompanied the spring and autumnal seasons.

 

But still, it was never **this** cold!

 

Rumple dismissed the chills as best he could, knowing that within a few minutes, he’d be feeling a very different kind of chill all throughout his body. Once both of their tops made contact with the wooden floor beneath their feet, Miles waved hand and stub alike at the couch beside them.

 

“Gentlemen first,” he winked.

 

Rumple reluctantly obliged. He laid down on the couch, pushing himself until his back was loosely pressed against the sofa’s cushioned edge and a pillow met his head. He gave his best playful pat upon the narrow stretch of empty room beside him, and Miles wasted no time accepting the invitation. The younger man slipped himself into the small, but still present space next to Rumple. Their bare chests squished together, and Miles entwined their legs and allowed his arms to rest at his partner’s sides as his head relaxed beside his own pillow. Miles pulled a couple of blankets off the table behind him, and tucked he and Rumple underneath it, trapping their warmth alongside them.

 

The chill promised earlier by Rumple quickly came through. He and Miles had slept close together and cuddled before, but those instances were nothing compared to how nonexistent the space between them was now. His husband covered nearly the entire front side of Rumple body. There was scarcely any space to turn his eyes away from the other man’s, and with Miles on the open side of the couch, there was no possibility of an escape. Rumple pushed himself a bit further back, but Miles’ only followed his lead. There was now no excess room; Rumple was truly stuck.

 

“Comfy,” Miles murmured, completely unaware of the blond’s dread.

 

Rumple tightly smiled. “What do you think?” Miles snorted and pressed his lips to Rumple’s neck. The blond’s eyes bulged at the sensation, and he had to force himself not to stiffen, choosing to toughen it out despite every reflex in his body attempting to make him relent.

 

Miles studied their position and smiled. “Look at where we are! Just like the night you first asked me out!” It was true. When Robert Gold finally worked up the courage to ask Miles all those years ago, he had done so while the two were borderline snuggling on the couch. It was quite the ride that evening, but by the end of the night, all of the pieces had fallen into place.

 

_How I wish they wouldn’t have._

 

Rumple really didn’t want to drudge up these kinds of memories, especially considering how intimate they were at the moment, but the way Miles looked at him easily told him that he wasn’t getting out of this, come hell or high water.

 

“I remember,” he answered softly. “I was terrified the whole time that you were going to say no.”

 

Miles shook his head. “Never.” Suddenly, with just one look into his partner’s eyes, Rumple’s compulsion not to continue this conversation was gone. The curiosity that first appeared a few days ago had shown itself once again, and Rumple could tell from only a few seconds of feeling it that it was not going to go away unless it was dealt with.

 

_Damn you, Robert Gold._

 

“I’m curious. When did you first decide you liked me?”

 

“From the day we met,” Miles confessed. “I loved how you used to snark at the nurses left and right, and forgive me for saying this, but you cut quite the figure in a hospital gown.” Miles laughed at the memory, and a blush crossed his face. “God, if circumstances weren’t what they were, I would’ve asked you out on the spot!”

 

A pause came over the two. Miles had realized what he said just as he said it; just what those very circumstances **were** that brought them together for the first time: the death of his lover’s wife and child.

 

Rumple’s face and attitude both stayed neutral. Miles wasn’t responsible for what happened to the two of them, at least in this world, and he could tell instantly that Miles regretted that slip of the tongue. In all honestly, he had probably only been thinking about his lost hand when he thought of how they met. Miles grin dwindled into nothing and his eyes grew somber.

 

Rumple thought about this new predicament that his husband just landed them into. Yes, this could be just the invitation he needed to escape most of the activities they were now going to do today. However, he abandoned that line of thought. He didn’t want things to become awkward between them. It could set a bad precedent. Not to mention, the way Miles looked at him, with those expressive, apologetic eyes, it just made Rumple feel…sorry for him. Rumple tried to shake that idea out of himself. Imagine the day **he’d** ever feel sorry for the plights of Captain Hook!

 

_It’s just pity._

_Still, with us stuck here all day, no need to leave him like this._

 

Rumple cleared his throat. “How should we begin our day, birthday boy?”

 

Miles paused again, and a grateful smile made its way across his face. Rumple found himself to be even a little proud of himself for the moment. This was something Baelfire or Belle would’ve wanted him to do; it was a display that he could be a better man.

 

And it honestly felt nice just to see him smile like that.

 

Then Miles yawned, and a face full of morning breath was shot his partner’s way in the process.

 

_Well, that was fun while it lasted._

 

_Maybe I should’ve just settled for the awkwardness._

 

“Just the same as we did upstairs: sleeping,” Miles commanded. “I swear to you, Rob, that blasted alarm clock plagues me, even when it doesn’t go off.”

 

Rumple recovered from that yawn, internally swearing to somehow make that clock blare even louder the next morning. “Say what you want, Miles, but it **does** get you up in the morning.”

 

“That may be so, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.” With that statement came another wave of Miles’ putrid morning breath to Rumple’s nose.

 

Rumple grimaced, and he didn’t even bother hiding it. “Am I to assume that your prior trip upstairs failed to include a brushing of your teeth?”

 

Miles snorted. He knew his husband hated smelling him before he had a chance to at least rinse out his mouth of any and all semblances of halitosis, but through a combination of laziness and forgetfulness, the morning passed without a single visit to the bathroom from him. Besides, they were going to be sleeping soon! Why even bother? “Sleepy time now. Brushy time later.” Closing his eyes, Miles tucked his head in the crook of Rumple’s neck and drifted off to sleep.

 

As Miles’ snores became present, Rumple reluctantly laid beside his barely conscious husband. Their position was uncomfortable, and humiliating. He was just glad that the weather had made it more or less impossible for anyone to see them like this. A sight like that would make even the all-powerful Dark One seem less intimidating.

 

Rumple grimaced. He just **knew** from the moment he saw the snow in the dining room that this was how his day was going to end up: not an inch of space between them with Rumple unable to do a thing about it. A sigh escaped him as he accepted his inevitable fate for the day, and he shut his eyes as to get some semblance of temporary solace.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Two hours passed. During that time, the cold air barely felt present through the layers of blankets and shared body heat. Rumple had to admit that his husband was right about one thing: lying beside one another **did** make for a rather toasty position.

 

Rumple regained consciousness, but his eyes remained shut. The blond shivered as the feeling of the winter’s chill made its way around his body. He opened his eyes, and was surprised to see Miles no longer beside him.

 

_Where is he?_

The man’s question was answered soon enough upon hearing the sound of a telephone being hung up from the next room over. Footsteps approached Rumple, and Miles came into view moments later.

 

“Sorry, Rob,” he excused. “Birthday calls. What can you do?” Miles moved to reclaim his spot on the sofa. He barely sat down when the kitchen phone began to sound off. He groaned. “Duty calls. Told you we should’ve gone cordless.” Miles stood up and made his way back to the kitchen, an apologetic look on his face that Rumple could only give a wistful, yet forgiving eye roll to. As Miles answered the phone, Rumple could tell the man was making his best effort to keep the call brief, yet the voice on the other end was apparently relentless. Just as Miles was finally able to end their conversation, and a soft stamping of bare feet could be heard from their den, the ringer chose that moment to chime in.

 

And it went on and on. Every time a call ended and it seemed like Miles could at last return to the couch and his getting-colder-by-the-second husband, the ringing started up again. The entire time, Rumple fought his urge to cut the phone cord, silently cursing every name he heard Miles say thanks to as a substitute for his desires.

 

He really hated how he was feeling like that.

 

It took over half an hour for the house to quiet down once more, but eventually, the phone stopped ringing.

 

“Apologies for the intrusion, my love. With any luck, it shant happen again, or at least not like that.” Miles pushed himself against his partner once more, and immediately, Rumple felt that much warmer.

 

_What are you, a part-time furnace?_

 

“I love the way you curl up to me,” Miles said. “You’re like a little baby animal when you do it.”

 

_What?_

 

Rumple was caught off guard by the statement. He had hardly been less rigid than a piece of plywood today, a far cry from what Miles was accusing him of. Would it have been better if he was? Probably, but with his most recent reactions to his and Miles’ physical contacts, he wanted to try and limit his involvement in it as much as possible. He peeked down at himself expecting to be stiff as usual.

 

His eyes bulged.

 

Miles was right.

 

The former wizard’s back was arched towards him, his arms found their way onto Miles’ back, and his bare feet clung to his partner’s ankles. Miles’ took Rumple’s silence for mock offense at the comment. “What do you want me to say? You’re like a gorilla? Or how about a grumpy hyena?”

 

Rumple furrowed his brow, and he met Miles at eye level. “You are ridiculous.”

 

Miles smirked, clearly amused with his husband’s frustration. “You may hate your shortness, but I just consider you fun sized.”

 

Rumple lightly elbowed him, and judging by Miles’ resulting face, while amused, the man couldn’t be less surprised by the action if he tried. “I’ll divorce you! I mean it!” Try as he might have, Rumple couldn’t match his threat with his facial expression, and a smile overcame him.

 

“You’re not going to do anything, you old fart,” the other man snarked. “Besides, you can’t leave me! We were made for each other!”

 

Rumple put Miles’ insult towards him aside for the moment and focused on the other half of his statement. “Really,” he asked snidely. “What can you do for me?”  


“That’s an easy one, love. Reach the top shelf.” His head twisted backwards in laughter. Rumple pushed, pulled, and squirmed, making every effort to separate from Miles. It was in vain though, as the other man would not let him so much as budge, grinning the whole time. “You think you can escape like this? Face it: You’re mine forever.”

 

_As far as you know._

“What have I done,” Rumple sulked.

 

“Ensured you’ll never want for a stepladder.”

 

For once, Rumple didn’t have a comeback at the ready, and simply stayed silent as Miles’ body cured his of its frosty ails.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

After a two-hour nap, the desire to sleep was the furthest thing in the world from strong for Rumple and Miles. They tried to relieve themselves of their boredom by turning on the news, but after seeing how the reporters had nothing to note other than reports of the snowstorm and the hottest winter drinks, the two soon decided to seek another form of entertainment. After some time channel flipping, the couple finally came across a film enjoyable enough to watch.

 

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles. The film was so…them. Neither could explain it, but that’s just how it was. Maybe it was that Rumple could relate to Neal’s pensive nature and his passion for reuniting with family even in the face of the world’s worst circumstances. Maybe it was from how Miles saw himself in Del, the kindhearted soul who was secretly more deep and perceptive than anyone ever gave him credit for. Maybe it was just because it was a nice, lighthearted film with enough maturity and holiday-themed optimism, despite the film taking place during Thanksgiving, to attract them to it, especially around this time of year. A bowl of popcorn Miles prepared was shared, and on occasion, when Miles wanted to be cute, fed as the movie played.

 

The couple moved around a bit so that Rumple’s back was to Miles’ stomach the younger man cradled his husband in his arms. It was done so Rumple could see better, as Miles imagined he would have a rather poor view craning his neck to look over Miles’ shoulder the whole time. Rumple enjoyed the extra space, finding it much more pleasing than being squished like a sardine in the back of the couch.

 

So far, the day had more or less met his expectations, though their change in position was one most welcome for him.

 

As the credits scrolled up the screen, Rumple tilted his head so he could look at Miles. The other man locked eyes with him, and forged the best smile he could. The man was certainly talented at being a big spoon, but on the sofa, lying in the very position Rumple was not two hours ago, he seemed despite his best efforts about as comfortable as the blond was earlier. Had it not been for the lack of a television up in their bedroom, Rumple would’ve had no doubt they’d be relaxing in their chambers instead.

 

Rumple couldn’t pinpoint whether it was out of pity or for the purposes of his act, but he couldn’t let such an act of kindness go without **some** form of gratitude.

 

“Thank you,” he said. “For switching places with me. It was getting a bit stuffy over there.”

 

Miles hand reached for the back of Rumple’s head, and he assisted his partner’s body so that they were once again facing each other. “You’re welcome,” he responded sincerely. “I hear you, though I will confess, I did miss having you in my clutches so firmly.”

 

_Should’ve seen this one coming._

_You give him an inch…_

_And he goes all the way to Houston._

“Please,” Rumple said, trying to make his exasperation sound mocking in tone. “You just missed your personal body pillow.”

 

Miles smirked, not even attempting to deny the claim. “Not my fault you’re so comfy.”

 

“I disagree. You practically pile drive yourself into my side every time we lay together! I’m starting to wonder if you think I’m some burger, meant only to be tenderized!”

 

“Don’t be silly, love,” Miles quipped, playing along. He arched his head closer to Rumple’s to the point that his stubble’s was caressing the older man’s cheekbone. “How can I tenderize someone already so tender,” he whispered intensely, the loose air tickling the back of Rumple’s neck.

 

_Okay. That’s enough kindness for one day._

_Or one lifetime for that matter._

 

“An old fart,” Rumple said, attempting to change the conversation.

 

Fortunately for him, Miles was a willing enough participant to play along.

 

“Hmm?” Miles moved his head back to its previous spot, and their eyes made contact again.

 

“Earlier, while we were laying down. You called me an old fart.”

 

Recollection of the event came to Miles. “Yeah. Guess I did,” he shrugged.

 

“I’m not **that** much older than you, Miles,” Rumple pointed out.

 

“No,” he agreed. “You’re not.”

 

“Then why call me an old fart?”

 

“’Cause you act like one!” Miles barely got his explanation out before barking out in laughter. Rumple sneered.

 

_How **dare** he?_

While Rumple didn’t feel so insulted as to be offended, the need to wipe the smile that currently displayed on Miles’ face overcame him more and more with the passing seconds, until he came up with an idea, and swiveled off the couch, picking up his cane as he did it.

 

Worry line crossed the top of Miles’ brow.

 

“I may be old,” Rumple admitted, “but my mind is as perky as a cheerleader. And I’m going to prove it to you. That is, if you’re up to the challenge.”

 

Miles smirked. If there was one thing, in any world, that he did not back down from, it was a challenge.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

“And that’s another $1,000 for New York Avenue, dear. Lovely hotel, am I right? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe that this is the tenth time you’ve frequented it.” The blond grimaced as he prepared to pay off his husband’s property, repressing a groan as he saw himself short at least $300 of paying off his rent. Miles saw his husband’s shortcoming though, and smirked triumphantly. “Looks like victory is mine, my old fart.”

 

Rumple was dumbfounded. Silent and dumbfounded.

 

He had started the game off strong enough, a monopoly on the pinks on his fourth go around, and one on the greens shortly after. Miles had two as well, but it took much longer to get them, and what monopolies neither of the two had were traded between them in deals Rumple was certain he had the better payoff in. But despite everything seemingly being in Rumple’s corner, Miles surged ahead, and the worst part about it for the older man was that he knew it wasn’t due to dumb luck. While Miles had given him ample properties, he had taken large sums of money in return, as well as some of the less expensive places. That lack of capital had made it virtually impossible for Rumple to even **do** anything with his lands, and before he knew it, Miles’ hotels had him mortgaging half of them!

 

_Brilliant._

_How the hell did **I** not think of that? _

 

“Y’ know, love, you don’t have to let me win just because it’s my birthday, right?” By this point, Miles’ smirk was completely destroyed by the snickers that took over him. Rumple tried to channel some anger, but couldn’t mask his own amusement with anything more than a smirk of his own.

 

“I think that’s **enough** out of you. Let’s play again. I doubt birthday luck will smile upon you a second time.”

 

“ **I** think you give me far too little credit.”

 

“We’ll see about that.”

 

“Fine, but I want to play another game. Monopoly’s fun and all, but it takes forever to play. I think we were at it for nearly two hours.” Miles bit his lip as he mused. “How about checkers?”

 

“Done. I’ll go get the set.”

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Miles won again.

 

It hadn’t even taken twenty minutes. His moves were so fast, Rumple could barely comprehend it as the younger man was swiftly defeating him.

 

“I swear you’re cheating.”

 

“I swear you’re jealous.”

 

That comment earned the younger man a glare from Rumple.

 

“I demand a rematch!” Rumple pushed himself, along with the seat he occupied out of the table.

 

“You know, love. I think you might have to make a run to the supermarket. I’m detecting some sour grapes.” When he saw Rumple glare at him menacingly again, he laughed. “How about we make some lunch?” Rumple conceded. It was getting to be nearly four in the afternoon, and his stomach was starting to groan with pain. They headed for the kitchen, Miles’ stub atop Rumple’s shoulder.

Finding food was rather problematic. Their pantry was quite small in options. Rumple had assumed that they’d be eating out today, and had planned on going food shopping the next day to prepare for the storm. However, Mother Nature, being as nice as she was, seemed to have other plans for them, and with the storm, they were forced to make due with the little that they **did** have.

 

A quick scan of their pantry and refrigerator told them that they had a few pieces of refrigerated chicken cutlets, four or five boxes of pasta, some basic baking supplies like eggs, sugar and flour, and a few cans of assorted vegetables.

 

“I could cook up this chicken and pasta if you’d like,” Rumple offered.

 

“Sure thing.” Miles sat down at the kitchen table, and Rumple got to work.

 

So far, the day wasn’t terrible, that much Rumple would admit. Miles had taken up a lot less space of his, and they were getting along well enough. Rumple was even less disgusted than usual at Miles’ romantic advances. Then again, he had had two whole months to get used to them, and they were now as natural to him as knocking on a door.

 

As Rumple waited for the pasta’s water to come to a boil and for the chicken to start sizzling, he opened up the pantry door above him one more time. He had thought he saw a colorful box in there, but got distracted by Miles finding the chicken before he got the chance to spare it more than a glance. He made contact with the box instantly, and reached for it. When he finally saw the front label of the package, he rolled his eyes.

 

_How convenient._

 

Holding the box, Rumple turned around. “It looks like we have some cake mix. It’s nothing special, but I think we could make it, if you want.”

Miles face brightened. “Sounds good to me!”

 

“Can you check to see if we’ve any cake pans?”

 

“On it!”

 

Miles bent over to explore a low cupboard. The clanking of pots and pans alerted Rumple, and he turned around to make sure that Miles hadn’t hurt himself.

 

No. He was not hurt.

 

Instead though, Rumple was treated to a sight he should’ve expected, but didn’t.

 

Miles’ ass was hanging in the air.

 

His round, full-figured, and visibly perky ass.

 

Miles was an attractive man. Rumple wouldn’t deny that. In his other life, he was able to court Milah and countless other women from what Rumple understood. From his perfectly styled hair to his unforgettable shade of blue eyes to his smoothe voice, the man had qualities that could certainly woo anyone of his choosing, male or female. And from what features he didn’t have physically, he more than made up for in confidence. Miles, and Hook too for that matter, always had this air about them; it was like they could take on the whole world, and gladly would if they ever wanted to. It was both cocky and impressive at the same time that a man could be that sure of himself, and Rumple could see how such an attitude could attract people.

 

Rumple’s lips drew lazy circles around his tongue. Looking away didn’t occur to him as a possible action to take until much longer than it should have. The simply stood there, staring at Miles as the boiling water beneath him made his hair droop and his face cake with sweat.

 

It was only when Miles began to pull out of the cupboard did Rumple even have the chance to regain his composure.

 

His cheeks reddened. What was he doing? He reminded himself once more that this was **Hook** who he was ogling!

 

_But it’s not. It’s Miles._

_It’s the same thing._

_But it’s not._

_Whatever! Just get my head back to where it was before!_

 

He turned his head back to the pasta, but the tilt must not have escaped Miles peripheral vision, for that same seductive smirk that Rumple had been the victim of many times before came back.

 

“See something you like?” Miles grooved his butt a couple of times as he grinned.

 

His composure returned, Rumple shuddered, making sure to go out of his way to give off a mocking demeanor. No, he did **not** want to have that conversation. He didn’t want to even think of it or anything else of that nature! By some grace of luck, sex hadn’t come up all day, and he would be damned if it was going to come up now!

 

“Aww, don’t be ashamed, Rob. You can admit that you find me pretty.”

 

“Pretty cocky.”

 

“Pretty much.” Miles cupped the bottom of Rumple’s chin and placed a simple, sweet kiss on his lips. Rumple became so dazed from that kiss, barely noting to himself that it was the first one they had shared in hours, that he allowed himself to stare at his husband and he returned to his chair at the table.

 

A shirtless Miles was a sight most easy on the eyes. His torso was well toned. There was clearly muscle there, but it definitely didn’t make his body seem inhuman. It looked soft in all the right places, and Rumple could attest that it indeed felt similar.

 

“Rob,” Miles beckoned, successfully snapping Rumple back to reality.

 

_This is Hook._

_Stop forgetting that._

“Yes?”

 

“The chicken is burning.”

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Rumple had to stop his hands from ringing themselves around Miles’ neck as they ate lunch. Between snickering at the fact that his husband basically burned lunch from being distracted by his bare chest and gratuitously flexing in ways that made the blond groan out of exasperation more than attraction, Miles was definitely trying the patience of the powerless, yet formidable Dark One. Rumple at least found solace in the fact that Miles’ physical appearance was less of an obstacle and a distraction now.

 

At least a little bit.

 

A second movie was decided upon after a bit more channel flipping. This time, they watched Jaws. It was one of Miles’ favorite movies. He loved the shots of the beach, the nautical talk, the soundtrack, and even those elements of horror. Towards the end of the film, every time the ferocious shark appeared, he would tighten his grip on his lover ever so slightly.

 

Rumple felt overall indifference towards the film, instead choosing to take the time that Miles was occupied for to simply space out and think. Everything came to mind in those two hours, from theories about where Baelfire could be, to what magic book he should read next, to what he and Miles were going to have for dinner tonight.

The couple’s hunger began to react to the frosty winter air, and the need for dinner became apparent with every passing credit that followed the movie. Another trip to the pantry was made, this time made a bit easier with the prior knowledge of what they already had. Elbow-shaped pasta with canned peas was quickly decided upon, and a jar of marinara sauce was put to use alongside it.

 

While Rumple prepared the cake mix they found earlier, Miles did some exploring of his own, and found something else he considered quite delectable.

 

“Rum, darling?” Miles asked. The neck of a bottle of Miles’ preferred drink rested in the space between his hand’s clenched thumb and pointer finger, and a couple of stacked glasses were nestled in the crook of his tightened elbow.

 

Rumple chuckled. “Certainly. But allow me to take those glasses. No need to bring any harm to the good ones.”

 

They returned to the couch, and turned on the news to get updates about the storm. The snow, it seemed, had finally quieted down, and was promised to be shoveled, snow blown, and packed away off of every street and driveway in town by tomorrow afternoon. The news anchor also noted that the ambassadors of the Storybrooke Department of Disaster Prevention and Responses Committee issued a public apology for any inconveniences caused by the poor weather.

 

 _Hmph._

_Send me a fruit basket and we’ll talk._

Rumple and Miles now sat side by side as to eat their dinners a bit more easily. A loose blanket, fastened at each of their shoulder blades, bound them together as to combat the cold weather.

 

“I’m curious, Rob. Had Mother Nature decided to hold herself back, and we were able to leave even so much as our driveway, what would our plans have been for the day?”

 

“A day on the town,” Rumple replied honestly. “A stroll through the park, a few films at the cinema, lunch at Granny’s, and dinner at Bella Notte, or, if there was a game you wanted to watch, The Rabbit Hole.

 

Miles swallowed a piece of pasta. “Sounds like it would’ve been a nice day. Well, love, if you’ll allow me to compliment you, it seems that you’ve covered most all of the birthday bases.”

 

Rumple shrugged, smiling. “Thank you, dear.”

 

“That is except one.”

 

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The blond froze. He had hoped that by not bringing sex up for the entire day, that perhaps Miles would simply forget, or that maybe some rum would be enough to make him too tired to ask for it.

 

It was starting to seem like he was wrong.

 

_Oh no._

“A-and what is that,” Rumple asked timidly. He hoped, in the face of his husband’s hesitance, Miles would back down from asking for what was surely on his mind.

 

Miles smirked.

 

_Or not._

“Don’t play dumb, my love. You know you have it, and you know even better that I want it. I mean, it is my birthday after all!”

 

Rumple’s head started feeling light, and words escaped him.

 

Thankfully, before the blond could feel any more effects from his freight, he was saved by two words.

 

“My present.”

 

Just like that, it felt like Rumple’s collapsing world was coming back together yet again.

 

“Don’t bother lying. I know I saw you bring it in last night,” Miles stated triumphantly, looking at his husband all the while as if he had just discovered a huge secret.

 

Rumple sighed, masking his relief with the appearance of exasperation.

 

_Yes, of course. The present._

“Peeper,” Rumple accused.

 

“Only when it comes to you.” Rumple shuddered, and got off the couch, making his way downstairs. Upon reaching the back corner of the basement’s main room, he grabbed a large powdery blue box with a red ribbon as carefully as he could, and slowly drudged his way back up the stairs. With no small part thanks to luck, both he and the present made the trip back to the surface unscathed.

 

Robert Gold had first seen it about a year and a half ago. Miles had dragged him to the tackle shop one day before a fishing trip. The man grinned so widely at the sight of the bauble, that his cursed persona knew right there and then that it **had** to find it’s way into their possession somehow. It took much longer than Robert had hoped for, but after nine months of negotiating and the promise of two months of free rent, the owner finally gave in and sold it to him. The present was then carefully hidden in the pawnshop, only removed when Rumple claimed and wrapped it up the previous evening. He was glad that he had the good sense to bring it into the house, with the intent to give it to Miles over their morning coffee. He had hoped that the reaction to the gift would’ve been so good, that Miles would’ve gone along with anything he asked for the rest of the day. Still, it would’ve been odd either way if he **hadn’t** given Miles a gift, and conspicuous was **not** the game that Rumple was playing.

 

As soon as Rumple placed the present on the table beside the sofa, Miles took it into his own arms, ready to shake the box in a feeble attempt of guessing what was inside. Rumple quickly covered the other man’s hands with his own, gesturing for his partner to stop.

 

“Not for shaking, I take it?” Miles joked.

 

“Not for shaking,” he confirmed. Miles nodded, choosing instead to delicately place it on his lap and gently remove the wrapping and box top. After a few more protective pieces of packaging were removed, the present was finally in a state of visibility. Rumple smirked to himself as his husband silently gasped and his fingers trembled.

 

Finally, when he felt in control enough of his hands, Miles slowly lifted his gift out of the box, and an intricately designed ship-in-a-bottle made itself known to its recipient.

 

The glass sparkled in the light of the room. The ship looked very much like a pirate ship, and Rumple would’ve even gone as far as to say that it closely resembled the Jolly Roger as he remembered it from his two brief visits aboard the vessel. The wooden exterior was a beautiful shade of brown that made Rumple think of dark chocolate when he first saw it, the sails were a pristine beige, and the top windows were painted in with a sunset orange hue while the bottom ones were glass as pure as the bottle that held it.

 

Needless to say, Rumple was feeling very confident about this gift.

 

After admiring the craftsmanship of the gift alongside his husband, Rumple tilted his head to see the birthday boy’s reaction.

 

Miles was in awe. Pure awe.

 

“Rob,” he breathed, studying the ship. “I know this ship. It’s from the tackle shop. But I don’t understand. How did you get it?” His eyes moved away from the bottle and onto him. A worry line was once again noticeable on Miles forehead.

 

“It took sometime to get him to do so, but eventually, the owner sold it to me for a bit of rent relief.” Rumple felt the need to emphasize the fact that he obtained the trinket of his husband’s affection legally, lest he risk another argument. Miles seemed to appreciate the sentiment, reprieve washing over his face like a wave. “Do you like it?”

 

For a few moments, all Miles could do was open his mouth to gasps that were supposed to be voiced thoughts. Speechless. Rumple was almost worried he would start sobbing before he finally spoke.

 

“I love it,” he finally answered. “It-it’s amazing.” Miles carefully lowered his present onto the table before looking back at his partner. “ **You’re** amazing. This is the second best present I’ve ever received.” That took Rumple by surprise.

 

_Second?_

“What was the first?”

 

“You,” he said, his voice cracked and tears in his eyes. “I’m convinced that the Gods gave me a gift the same day they took my hand away, and I’m so happy they did. You’re beautiful, my dear, in mind, body, and soul alike, and I never want to think of a day again where you aren’t in my life. I love you, Rob.” He held Rumple tightly and pulled the man in for a kiss. It was sweet and tender and Miles continuously deepened it. Rumple indulged, and let himself take in the grazing of their lips without letting his condemnations interfere. Something about Miles’ when he was this happy was just…intoxicating.

 

When they finally broke away from each other, Miles nuzzled his head against Rumple’s neck and looked him in the eyes, the most serene smile on his face that Rumple had ever witnessed.

 

“Still love me? I’m just an old fart after all.”

 

Miles closed his eyes blissfully and stifled his laughter. “That may be so, but, as it happens, I’m an old fart too. I guess, at the end of the day, we’re just two old farts with no one but each other to live out our remaining days with.”

 

“Not a bad conclusion, Miles. Not a bad one at all.”

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

“Hey Rob, can I ask you something?”

 

“Certainly.”

 

It was getting late. The evening news had just concluded, and Jimmy Kimmel was joking about Leonardo DiCaprio or some other celebrity that Rumple didn’t care to remember on the television. Two half eaten pieces of cake sat on either side of the ship-in-a-bottle on the table. Rumple was once again resting at the back of the couch with Miles’ chest resting against his, though this time, it was more of his own volition. He saw Miles’ discomfort in the position they were in before, and, seeing how it was still Miles’ birthday for another hour, felt he owed it to the man, or rather, Robert did, to make him content for the remaining time. Besides, it wasn’t like he cared about what was playing. His eyes were finally at the point where they were starting to become a pain just to keep open.

 

“Before you gave me my present, you seemed a little uneasy. Was everything alright?”

 

Rumple’s stomach churned, and he shifted his gaze away from Miles bright blue eyes. Looking down seemed far from appropriate, so he just settled for looking at Miles’ shoulder. “Of course.”

 

Miles frowned. He took Rumple’s chin into his hand and gently pushed it upwards so that they locked eyes once more. “Rob, you know me better than to assume that I’m going to fall for that. And you know that you can tell me anything. Something was wrong back then. Please tell me what it was.”

 

Rumple’s stomach twisted further. A lie wasn’t coming up, and even if it did, Rumple genuinely doubted that Miles would believe it. They had just made up from a fight less than a week ago. If at all possible, Rumple wanted to avoid another one.

 

It still didn’t make him happy about confronting the issue.

 

“I guess I’m just surprised you’re not taking advantage of the day and having your way with me is all,” Rumple confessed. The unease erupted. Had Miles not been so close, he would’ve clutched his belly to stop the nauseous feelings from taking over.

 

Miles, on the other hand, couldn’t have looked calmer if he tried.

 

Without even missing a beat, he replied with a shrug.

 

“You don’t want it.”

 

Rumple stayed silent. Miles’ face was neutral, and lacked anything that would associate it with disappointment. And it wasn’t as if he was wrong.

 

_Damn, he’s perceptive!_

“Does that bother you,” he quietly asked. He wasn’t going bother trying to make up excuses. He knew Miles was too smart for those by now.

 

“No. Not really.” Again, nothing to suggest anger, sadness, or falsehood of any kind could be detected on the other man. Rumple became confused. After Miles’ impassioned speech upon receiving his birthday present, he knew that his husband loved him, and if today proved nothing, it was in more than just an emotional sense. Rumple thought about himself. Physically, he hadn’t changed much since that breezy October night where he regained his memories. He maybe lost a pound or two in the passing time, but he sincerely doubted it was anything that his husband would pick on. He still dressed and groomed himself just as he had done before. By all accounts, Miles should’ve been just as attracted to him as ever.

 

_Then why is he not even bashing an eyelash at the fact that I don’t want him?_

 

Miles caught on to the confusion. “I don’t like sex with you, Rob.” Rumple’s eyebrows practically shot to the sky as he stared with his companion in shock. “I love it,” he amended. “But you know what? I get just as much satisfaction out of this. Holding you, soaking up your scent, dining on the taste of your lips, literally embracing every notion that you are mine and I’m yours. Yeah. That’s enough to give me quite a high.” Miles quirked his eyebrow, and his mischievous grin returned. “That, and beating you in Monopoly. Both great fun.”

 

Rumple released a hmph, though a smile easily showed its deception. Miles considered it as good as any invitation he was going to get, and lightly kissed his husband.

 

“I know it probably didn’t go as intended,” Miles admitted when they pulled apart, “but thank you for the amazing birthday, and yet another reminder of just how much you mean to me. I love you.”

 

Those three little words were all it took for Rumple to remember himself once again. No, he wasn’t in love with this man. Yes, he had to act like he did, and yes, he had found some pleasure in the ruse, but love was quite a step away from what he felt. An ‘I love you too’ left his lips in a tone that could get him nominated for an Oscar, but he would never admit to any form of infatuation with the man, let alone love. Accepting something resembling excitement when it came to their kisses was one thing, but Rumple would sooner give the Evil Queen a sponge bath than let it go any further.

 

Miles placed his hand on his lover’s hip, directing Rumple’s body so that they were face to face. The younger man lowered his chin, and smiled at the man beside him as he began to move his face closer to him. Rumple puckered his lips, and within seconds, they were once again lip locked. The kiss was gentle, but no less sensual than anything Rumple had been dealing with for the past few days.

 

They spent the final few hours of the day channel flipping, as they laid back-to-stomach against each other on top of the couch’s fabric surface. This went on until a yawn escaped Rumple.

 

“Tired?” Rumple simply nodded, and Miles smiled contently at him.

 

_Does he **ever** do anything other than smile at me?_

 

A sudden flashback to their fight last week occurred, and shortly afterwards, Rumple realized that he took much less issue with Miles continuous shows of affection.

 

“Let’s get us to bed.”

 

Miles grabbed an armful of pillows and blankets with one are, and offered the other one to Rumple, who took it much more graciously than he had ever thought possible to before. Their shirts were still there, abandoned across the wooden floor, and completely forgotten by Miles, much to Rumple’s dismay. Between his cane and Miles arm, he had no place to hold them.

 

_Looks like I’m doing laundry tomorrow._

_And possibly ironing judging by those wrinkles._

 

For some reason though, it didn’t bother him as much as it normally would have.

 

While it was still far from perfect, maybe, just maybe, being married to Miles Gold was no longer the worst fate imaginable.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Awwwww!!!!
> 
> Confession time! I fucking love fluff. I’m sure you all gathered that, but yeah. 
> 
> I love writing these two together, and I promise, there will be more of the rest of the cast in the following chapters. I’d like to think I’m doing a decent job writing this super odd pairing.
> 
> So, thank you all for reading! Love it or hate it, please leave a review if you have the time! 
> 
> Also, you can get a sneak peek of the new chapter if you write, “sneak peek please” at the end of your review on my fanfiction.net account! 
> 
> And if you can’t review, no worries, but please have a good day, and let us all enjoy the new episode!


	12. Neither a Borrower nor Lender Ye Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time nor any of the show’s characters.
> 
> A/N: Hello! 
> 
> So, one Guest reviewer posed a question on my first chapter over on the fanfiction.net account, and I thought it was an interesting point, and seeing how I couldn’t respond to them privately, I figured I would discuss it right here. So, the guest pointed out that since Jefferson’s Hat has that rule about only as many people who went through the hat can come out, the scene where Belle was deposited in Oz doesn’t make sense. That’s a really good point, and I’m glad you brought it up, as it allowed me to look over the scene another time to check myself. Now, I’m one to own up to my mistakes in canon, just look at my Author’s Note from the last chapter. However, I don’t really think I messed up here since I interpreted the rules of the hat to only take effect after you enter through one of the doors. I believe this because Jefferson only pointed out this rule to Regina after they were already in the hat and about to step into Wonderland, and since Belle was the only one who went through the portal to Oz, it fits with my story. Now, I will admit, I could be ultimately wrong about this, but that’s just my interpretation of the situation. I want to thank my mysterious guest reader for making a comment, and giving me a chance to do some critical thinking about my own work, and I hope, whoever and wherever you are, that you’re reading this, and know that I look forward to read your thoughts on this interpretation!
> 
> I’m sure you might’ve gathered by now that this chapter is going to be a lot shorter than my previous ones. Well, I was having trouble connecting scenes for upcoming chapters. Content is being prepared, but it’s a bit more fragmented than I’d like it to be. The conclusion I came to was to make this a shorter chapter so that everyone wins! You guys get a chapter faster, I get more time to put these pieces together, and we all get to bask in the glow of more content!!!! And what better time for it to come out than the day of a heavy Rumple/Killian episode (interaction-wise, that is)!!!!
> 
> Speaking of Season 5… OH MY HEART!!!!!! Jeez, that last episode killed me! Poor Emma! Poor Killian!!!!!! It’s taking everything I have to hold on to hope here, but I refuse to give up, no matter what!
> 
> Anyway, enough about that! Please enjoy the new chapter, and be sure to leave a comment below!

**Neither a Borrower nor a Lender Ye Be**

 

**Beep!**

**Bee-**

The alarm clock hushed before the second beep could even enjoy its one-second life. A tap of the finger prematurely ended the sound’s existence. Miles grinned at his bedmate, grateful for the termination of the device’s cries, and for once, the pawnbroker both genuinely and eagerly returned it. However, Rumple’s reasoning behind his smile couldn’t be further from his husband’s.

 

Rent day was once again upon itself for Rumplestiltskin, and boy, was the wizard excited for it.

 

There were a couple of reasons for this. First, Rumple sincerely felt an over-presence of Miles over the course of the past two days. The fallout of the snowstorm from Miles’ birthday took nearly half of the afternoon to be tidied up, and even after that, the couple only left the house to procure dinner. The whole time, the shifts in affection that had been taking place from within were only happening more and more. He hid them better as a consequence, but he still found himself doing double takes as he caught himself looking at Miles in a more…primal fashion. Even after they were, at last, able to leave the house again, it wasn’t promising to be as easy as one might’ve thought to get away from Miles. Another result of the snowstorm was that the docks and a fair part of the harbor were completely frozen over, leaving Miles free from work until it was safe to sail aboard once more. With Christmas only two days away, the odds seemed more and more in favor of such circumstances not being possible until after the holiday had passed.

 

Secondly, Rumple was excited to finally erase the remaining stigma associated with the events of the election. Sure, the pawnbroker was happy that Miles, Emma, and incidentally, Ruby, were over the fire that took place, but the rest of the town’s attitudes towards it were still unresolved as far as Rumple was concerned. They still showed anger towards him, and the blond knew it was more a loathing that came from his actions upon Town Hall than from the usual stress that came with simply living in fear of him. It was getting grating for the man, and he was optimistic that today would be his chance to show them who was really in charge of this town.

 

In simplest terms, Rumple was excited to be a monster again.

 

The very monster that both Miles Gold and Captain Hook alike would dread, but that was exactly what he was counting on.

 

Miles had the day off of work, but it didn’t upset Rumple in the slightest. His husband never bothered him on rent day, respecting him far too much to ever interfere unless the payment plan devised was just inhumane, and someone confided in him that fact. Robert, and by proxy, Rumple, had come to understand how Miles chose which battles to become a part of when it came to his dealings over the years, and had worked to make them closer to the younger man’s limits as to not invoke his fury.

 

Had Miles not held him back with his daily routine of snuggling and making out, Rumple would’ve been out the door of their house at least an hour earlier. His drive to the shop filled him with more and more impatience with every tap of his car’s brakes. When he finally reached the store, he had begun organizing immediately, getting in and out of the place within ten minutes.

 

Upon finally arriving at his first stop, a house only three blocks away from the town’s funeral home, he allowed himself one final grin before he took to the doorbell.

 

_It’s good to be back._

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Most people would’ve found it at least a bit peculiar that their spouse bolted out of the door as if he were off to win the lottery at first chance. Miles Gold, however, was not most people.

Of course he knew why his lover was so excited. His husband always behaved that way on Rent Day. The younger man often wished the man didn’t. Miles was far from blind to the fact that many people in town didn’t care for him, and he was sure that those thoughts at least had an inkling of a chance of being changed had his lover not looked so…pleased with the process of taking their money. It certainly couldn’t hurt, that much was bloody certain.

 

Miles prepared himself for the day, and walked over to the docks. He pulled his jacket tightly around himself as he walked.

 

_This chill is really getting intense._

 

As Miles expected, no one was working at all on fixing the harbor. One thing he never appreciated about his employees was their laziness. Sure, he could understand if they wanted to put off the maintenance until after Christmas, especially since it was so close. Unfortunately though, Miles knew his co-workers better than that.

 

_If they start on this before January 12 th, I’ll be surprised._

 

It frustrated Miles. He liked his job. The waves crashing against the company’s fishing boat were music to his ears. The stench of salt water in the air as the vessel he rode went deeper into the sea gave him a rush of adrenaline that gave coffee a run for its money. The various shades of blue and green the ocean’s surface took were colors Miles could easily lose himself in for hours a day. The satisfaction that came with catching a particularly large fish mirrored memories he shared with his late brother. Yes, being a fisherman provided Miles with many of the joys he was able to find in his life.

 

But he wasn’t going to get to relish in any of those things with a half frozen harbor in the way.

 

He was almost tempted to start on the repairs himself, but relented. The last time he pulled that particular stunt, he sprained his ankle and was all but bedridden for over a month by Robert’s command. If there was one thing Robert wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination, it was a lenient caregiver. Miles wasn’t even able to get out of bed without Robert having something to say about it, and usually, those things weren’t good.

 

_It wasn’t **all** bad, I’ll admit._

_Gave me an excuse to keep Rob close._

Still, a month away from the job he loved was a month away all the same, and no amount of quality time with his lover was going to change that. Miles walked off back in the direction in which he came bitterly, eager to get his mind onto something a bit more positive.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

The day had been going wonderfully so far, and it wasn’t even eleven in the morning.

 

Rumple practically felt ecstasy surge through his veins as he collected his money. The faces of his clients went white in his presence once more, and even some of the most vocal opponents of his election practices were driven to stuttering remarks by the time their landlord was through with them. Not that they had much of an argument ready when they were face-to-face, anyways.

 

It was a very good day for the pawnbroker, and it didn’t seem like that fact was going to change anytime soon.

 

That was until he checked his list.

 

There, right under the last house he visited, was one name that immediately drew a sneer from him.

 

 _Granny’s_.

 

Rumple groaned. Ever since the Savior had first arrived in Storybrooke, Ruby had become much…friendlier to him, and Rumple didn’t quite know how to feel about that. Yes, he had been nice to her grandmother that morning, but now it seemed like she meddled with him and his affairs every chance she got. Even after Rumple had patched things up with Miles, she still asked about their lives any time he entered the restaurant. She had said in the past that she wanted to get an understanding of him, but her constant talking was frankly getting annoying at this point.

 

The little diner was quiet when Rumple came in. There were only five or six people in the restaurant that weren’t part of the staff, and if they noticed the pawnbroker enter, they didn’t show it.

 

“Good morning,” a voice called. Rumple looked behind the counter, only to see the very object of his annoyance polishing a glass. “Here for Granny?”

 

“Yes. Could you please go get her?”

 

“Yeah. Just a second.” Ruby put down her glass and went into the kitchen, her heels clicking with every step she took. A brief mumbling was heard from the other room before the waitress returned. “She’s just finishing up a few plates of eggs. She’ll be right up.”

 

“Thank you,” Rumple answered simply, keen on deterring the girl away from conversation. He took a seat at an open table as Ruby returned to polishing the glasses in front of her.

 

“You’re here early,” Ruby pointed out.

 

_I really need to invest in some online collection services for this place._

 

“Yes. Well, I didn’t want to cut it too close to your lunch rush, nor nearly forget to pick up the rent completely like I did the other month.” He tried to stay quiet, his eyes focusing on his list of remaining collection sites. Rumple felt no need to talk to her, nor did he want to for that matter. After all, she was far from essential to his plans and her constant involvement in his affairs had quickly turned her into a nuisance.

 

“Miles have a good birthday?”

 

Rumple stifled a groan.

 

_Is one quiet trip to this diner too much to ask?_

 

“What kind of husband would I be if he didn’t?”

 

_Exactly the kind I want to be, but that’s beside the point._

 

“Speaking of the holidays, Granny’s throwing a New Year’s party next week. You and Miles should stop by,” she suggested.

 

“Thank you for the gracious invitation, but I think Miles and I are going to decline. We’ve never really celebrated the holiday.” Robert was always surprised by Miles’ indifference towards New Year’s Eve. It matched his, but the blond always expected his husband to want to go out drinking with friends with him, or something else as silly. But no, Miles never seemed to take interest in it, or at least after meeting him. Every year since they met, they’d have a few drinks and even watch some television specials, but they never made it a point to stay up until midnight, and at least a few times over the course of their marriage, slept through the changing of the New Year.

 

“Come on, I bet Miles would enjoy it. And heaven help you actually socialize with people a bit more.” Rumple glared at her. “All I’m saying is that it couldn’t hurt your image.”

 

“Thank you, Miss Lucas, but I like my image just the way it is.” Before Ruby could retort, Granny walked out through the kitchen door, two plates of eggs in each hand, and a spherical shaped wad in her sweater’s pocket. “And it looks like once again, our conversations shall be put to the wayside.” Rumple opened his hand, and Granny huffed as she slid the roll of bills into the pawnbroker’s palm. “Have a good day,” he said, giving a final smile at Ruby before clenching his money-clad hand shut and walking out the door.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

The realization hit him as he was walking home, and with it, his exasperation over his workplace predicament was completely forgotten. It came in the form of unlit, pine-colored cords of lights, cartoonish snowmen, and all other manner of decorations adorned upon many of his neighbor’s houses. It reinforced itself through he faint smell of the evergreens adjacent to the sidewalks, and on lawns and patios alike. The faces of everyone who he passed finalized the warm feelings in his heart.

 

_How could I forget?_

_It’s almost Christmas!_

Miles adored the holiday season. The month itself hosted two of his favorite holidays, to the point where the tiniest encounter with anything resembling the month of December was more than enough to melt away any and all of Miles’ troubles. Christmas in particular was something that brought Miles into a state of absolute bliss. And here it was, only two days away!

 

**_Uh oh._ **

**_How could I forget?!_ **

****

**_It’s almost Christmas!_ **

 

He hadn’t started planning. How could he with everything that had been going on for the past few weeks? Between elections and arguments and snowstorms and his birthday, Miles had barely been able to keep one coherent thought in his head at a time, let alone prepare for a holiday!

 

Now, though, he was free to do as he wished.

 

_What to do…?_

 

His husband’s present was already put together, a pet project he devised and put into action over the course of two weeks worth of lunch breaks at work. Decorations, while something Miles loved to see and admire, were not exactly his cup of tea when it came to putting them up. He satiated himself well enough with a few wreaths, a simple tree by the dining room, and a couple of pieces of mistletoe, **just** to keep Robert on his toes. All of those, he would get in a trek into the basement tonight. Entertainment was taken care of in that very same box, in the form of a collection of Christmas CD’s and movies that had put the couple in the holiday spirit year after year.

 

Finally, a visit to the kitchen provided Miles with all he needed to answer his question.

 

_The cooking! How the bloody hell did I not start thinking of that already?_

 

Tomorrow was Christmas Eve after all, and if the fisherman was to prepare a dinner worthy of the holiday itself, he would need to get the necessary ingredients post-haste. He would be lucky if there was still anything to buy, what with the crowds and all.

 

_Ungh. I promised myself I wouldn’t do this again this year! Rob’s gonna bloody **kill** me if we end up needing to order in for another Christmas._

 

Faster than a speeding bullet, Miles was out the door, sprinting towards the nearest supermarket.

 

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After an afternoon of success wearing down Storybrooke’s denizens both mild and rough, Rumple was confident there weren’t going to be any more problems stemming from his actions during the election.

 

He never expected to be proven wrong at a grocery store of all places.

 

It was crowded. Parking was nothing short of a nightmare, and Rumple found himself brushing elbows with strangers a lot more than he ever wanted to as he maneuvered himself to the back of the supermarket. Nestled between the bakery and the dairy section was a small nook with a set of bathrooms and a manager’s office.

 

As the blond prepared to knock on the door and speak with the manager, he braced himself. The manager of the store, Benny Porksman, was never someone Rumple **or** Robert liked. He always had a very entitled attitude, easily stemming from the fact that his store brought in more customers and income than any other establishment that Rumple owned. What he always seemed to forget, however, was that in his cockiness, he had also **spent** more than any other tenant that Rumple worked with. That led to being short on his payments on more than one occasion. As a result, Rumple’s ‘special methods’ had to take place each and every time. Sometimes, they involved the removal of equipment, or cancellation on orders of stock. What they all had in common, however, was that they made Benny’s life hell, and only added fuel to the fire that was their tremulous business relationship.

 

Rumple knocked.

 

“Who’s there,” an obviously irritated voice asked.

 

_Somebody’s getting into that holiday mood._

 

“Mr. Gold,” the landlord answered.

 

Some papers could be heard being tussled with on the other side of the door. “One sec,” Benny called. A moment later, the metal lined door was opened. A man about a head taller than Rumple immediately came into view. He had dark hair and a light stubble surrounding his lower jaw.

 

“I’m sure you know what brings me here today,” Rumple said as pleasantly as he could. “The rent, if you please.”

 

“Yeah, well forgive me if I don’t exactly feel like giving money over to some crook.”

 

Rumple’s eyes narrowed. “Say what you’d like, but at your own risk,” he returned. “After all, given everything you tell you about how much money you make from this fair establishment, I might decide that I want to see a bit more return.” The manager froze, his fists clenching. “As imagined, I don’t think you want me to do that.” Benny did his best to ignore him, choosing to refocus his attention to his vault. Rumple reveled in the silence of the room before a gasp escaped the other man. The landlord smirked. “Short again, are we? I expected better what with the holidays coming up. Perhaps those conveyor belts you were telling me about weren’t such a wise investment after all. Looks like you and I shall need to…go over an alternative payment plan.” Rumple waited for Benny’s face to turn white as a sheet as the realization caught up with him.

 

However, nothing of the sort happened.

 

“No,” he growled.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“No,” Benny repeated. “I won’t have it. I’m **through** taking your shit!”

 

“Need I also remind you that we are under a contract,” Rumple pointed out condescendingly. “I own this place. Not you.”

 

“Maybe that can change,” the manager argued. “I bet if I went to the mayor about this, she’d even be willing to relinquish my debt. She’s cold, but at least she’s not some good-for-nothing loan shark.”

 

“I would hold your tongue if I were you, because for the moment, I still **am** your landlord, and I could just as easily take this to court. And let me take this moment to remind you that I **am** a lawyer, and a well renowned one at that. Is that a risk you want to take?”

 

Rumple ignored his heartbeat as it ever so rapidly increased.

 

The owner growled. “You know what? Yeah! I want to! You think you’re good? How do you think you’ll be against half the businesses in this town? Everyone hates you. They’d jump at a chance to finally knock you off your high horse and any jury who’d deal with you is gonna chew you up as spit you out, just like the trash you are. You screw me and everyone in Storybrooke over at every turn, and I bet I speak for this whole town when I say we’re fucking sick of taking it!”

 

At that moment, with no warning whatsoever beforehand, a new voice spoke out.

 

“Pardon me if I dare to disagree.”

 

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Miles didn’t know how to feel when he first heard his husband’s voice behind the door beside the bathrooms. At first, he wasn’t even sure it was his lover’s voice he heard. He mistook it for a fantasy he was having about Robert complimenting his dinner, still in awe that he actually managed to scrounge up a ham for the two of them in the midst of all the chaos. However, as he continued listening to the conversation next to him, he became more and more certain that the voice most definitely was Robert’s.

 

And it didn’t sound good in there for the man that he loved.

 

He was preparing himself to leave. He reminded himself that this was Rob’s business, not his.

 

That was before he started hearing threats.

 

It was a bit garbled, but what Miles heard was undoubtedly a threat. It was something about Regina and the town changing ownership of the properties his husband owned. Honestly, Miles wasn’t one hundred percent sure of what the other man said, but his tone gave the cursed pirate all he needed to know about the jist of it.

 

And he didn’t like it one bit.

 

“Pardon me if I dare to disagree,” Miles yelled so that he could be heard from behind the metal door. A pause occurred before the entryway opened, and the two men came into view. Their heads were both turned in surprise towards the cursed pirate. After passing through his disbelief, Rumple eyed him, as if to ask, ‘What are you doing here? Let me handle this.’ Miles returned the stare with one of his own, wordlessly begging his husband to trust him. The blond held his stance for only a moment longer before letting out a sigh and nodding to him, their eyes never leaving each other.

 

_Thank you, Rob._

“What, Gold,” the manager asked incredulously. “Can’t handle this without your husband coming to save you?”

 

“Oh, he can,” Miles answered confidently. “I just thought another perspective will do you some good. Save you from making an ass out of yourself before you do something boneheaded.”

 

“I doubt it,” Benny answered snidely. “Look, Miles, I like you. You’re a good man, and heaven knows why you chose this loon to marry, but I won’t hold that decision against you. What you gotta understand though, is this man, he’s a maniac! He bullies everyone in this town, and the second we show an ounce of weakness, he attacks. He takes our stocks, our equipment, anything to make our business hell. Last time I was short, he took half my deli slicers the day before we were supposed to cater a business conference! My employees had to take overnight shifts just so we could **finish** the order on time! Now he’s probably gonna do something like turn off the conveyor systems the day before Christmas Eve! All ‘cause I can’t meet his impossible demands! We’ll **never** get through that, and I’ll go out of business! All because he’s insane!”

 

“You done,” Miles asked, quirking an eyebrow.

 

“Yes,” the manager answered slowly.

 

“Good, because I’ve something **I** want to say.”

 

Benny released a hmph. “Good luck trying to defend **him**.” His eyes flashed towards Rumple “You’d have an easier time with Hitler.” Miles furrowed his brow. Rumple tried once again to intercede, but one look into his husband’s eyes shut him up.

 

“You know what,” Miles asked rhetorically. “Yeah, Rob can be difficult when it comes to collecting his rent. You’ll hear no objection on that one from me. But you know what else he does? He still gives you **time**. I’m pretty sure any other landlord, were you unable to pay come collection day, would just close you down, no further questions asked. I’ll tell you this, Regina will sooner do **that** to you if you somehow manage to get her as your new landlord than he ever would. Rob, on the other hand, gives you a chance. Does he make it harder to pay? Yeah. Even then, I can still see where he’s going with it! He knows how these cycles work: Going easy on tenants just leads to them paying later and later. Rob makes it so you know that shit won’t be accepted. So don’t tell me he’s not fair, when, if fairness were applied, you would’ve been closed down five years ago!”

 

Miles looked back at Benny. He was sulking, but his downcast gaze was all Miles needed to grasp that it was he who came out on top. His husband, standing next to the manager, was momentarily awestruck. He hardly ever showed shock outright to Miles, but the cursed pirate made out the slightly raised eyebrows that constituted the signs. It took the blond a couple of seconds before he realized it was his turn to speak.

 

“As what I’m sure has become plainly obvious thanks to my husband’s well put speech, I am quite the commodity to your little business, and it would most certainly do you best to not forget that before making any rash decisions. Now, despite your beyond rude behavior, I **will** grant you one more day to come up with your payment before I take more…drastic measures.” Miles eyes lit up, and his jaw, when not falling, slackened. Needless to say, he didn’t expect **that**. His argument was probably more than enough to justify him taking the equipment without another word from the man. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t proud of his husband. God, he was!

 

Benny still looked like he wanted to kill Rumple, but eventually must’ve decided that his livelihood mattered more than his pride. “That would be great.”

 

“I’ll collect the remainder of my payment tomorrow. Now, I think it be best for my husband and I to take our leave. Come Miles,” Rumple beckoned, gesturing Miles to follow him back outside to the store. The younger man nodded and headed out, missing a final smirk that the pawnbroker made towards Benny as the couple left the office.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Rumple could’ve handled this scenario on his own, and he knew it too.

 

Benny had made some rather unexpected moves against him, but he was no stranger to empty threats from his debtors. He’d faced much harder scrapes than what the supermarket manager had put in front of him before, and always came out on top without a scratch upon his name.

 

So, why, with all of this information taken into account, did he barely protest even the **notion** of Miles coming to his rescue?

 

If Rumple were being truthful with himself, and for the moment, he was, it was something about the idea of being stood up for. Basically, it had never really happened to him before. Sure, the spinsters he lived with tried to dissuade the townspeople from casting Rumple as a permanent coward along the lines of his father, but they hadn’t been able to do much else. And his wife did even less, and all for lack of trying. Even years after he fled the battlefield of the first Ogre’s War on that fateful day centuries passed, Milah had never once spoken a word in her husband’s defense. Rumple had explained his reasons, told her everything about the seer he spoke with, but never did it seem to touch the woman’s icy heart. Perhaps it was because she knew Rumple’s injury was more for his own sake than for that of their child’s, or maybe she didn’t and just didn’t care. Either way, she seemed content to let her husband wallow in the town’s abhorrence.

 

So yes, to Rumple, the notion of someone fighting on his behalf, no matter the circumstances, was at the very least an alluring prospect.

 

Miles and Rumple walked out the manager’s office, shoulder-to-shoulder, stopping when they were sure they were out of earshot.

 

“Thank you, Miles,” Rumple said earnestly. “For helping me back there.”

 

Miles smiled, as it to say, ‘Like you even need to **say** thanks.’ “Thank **you** for trusting me.” The younger man walked back to what Rumple could only assume was his cart. He looked inside the wagon.

 

_Thank Merlin. He actually got a ham._

 

“I know you probably still have about half this town to clear out, so I’ll see you back home.” Miles kissed his cheek. “Love you.” He was just about to disappear behind a litter of food-clad aisles and dozens of uniformly styled shopping carts when Rumple raised a hand.

 

“Wait,” the landlord called out. Miles stopped in his tracks and turned around to look at him. “How about I help you finish and then I’ll give you a ride home? Consider it a thank you for earlier. Besides, the moment they see you walking out the door with me, they won’t even think about charging you.” Rumple smirked.

 

_It’s what Robert would’ve done anyway._

 

Miles smiled. “Thanks, Rob. But won’t it put you behind in collecting?”

 

“I’m ahead of schedule by over an hour. It won’t be an issue.”

 

“Really? Okay! Let’s do it.” Miles led the way through a few aisles. He and Rumple debated what they wanted to eat both on Christmas, as well as what needed to be stocked in the house. Rumple rolled his eyes as he saw Miles try and discreetly sneak a few boxes of cookies into their shopping cart. He was about to speak up about it, but found himself all of the sudden unwilling to when his eyes caught a glimpse of a box of the wizard’s favorite cookies nestled in the heart of the other treats.

 

The drive home was long. Who knew that such a small tow in Maine could have so many cars? It was pretty obvious that the couple was going to be thee for quite some time. Some small talk was made, and Miles gave some bare details about his morning to Rumple. After hearing about Miles’ brief trip to his workplace, Rumple felt the need to press the issue, felling something not quite right with his husband’s story.

 

“You’re not at the docks shoveling snow,” Rumple inquired. “Color me surprised.”

 

“With none of those sloths that I call co-workers? Wouldn’t be able to get much done anyways, and we don’t want a repeat of last time.” Rumple shuddered at the thought. Being bound to his bedroom with Miles as his only company for weeks on end was the very last thing he needed right now, everything from the past week considered. “And you just **know** they’re not gonna get back to it until it’s an even bigger problem! I get it: Christmas starts tomorrow. No one wants to work, ‘cause everyone still has holiday shopping left to do. But what about after? New Year’s is barely a holiday, and there’s a week between the two. Why not get some bloody work done? Am I right?”

 

“Of course you are,” Rumple agreed. “And your boss won’t take any action to force them to work on it?”

 

That comment earned a snort out of Miles. “You’ve seen my boss before. He’s great, but his backbone’s nonexistent. It’d take losing weeks of profits before he could even suggest that those slackers get back to work, and even then, I’d be the only one willing to show up. It’s like I’m the only one who wants to work there. You’d figure at least greed would get their asses over to the docks, but nope!”

 

“Must be frustrating.”

 

“You’ve no idea.”

 

Their house came into view shortly after. Rumple helped Miles bring everything in and joined the man for some lunch before bidding his husband adieu for the remainder of the afternoon. The blond got into his car, and diverted himself from his path. The blond still had most of the center of town to take care of, but he’d get to it when he got to it.

 

For now, a new mission had called his attention.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Neither Robert nor Rumple ever told Miles that of the many properties in Storybrooke he owned, on of them happened to be his workplace.

 

Robert justified it by convincing himself that arming Miles with that knowledge would be creating an impossible-to-ignore power distance between them, making a relationship nearly unsustainable. Whenever he went to collect their rent, he made damn certain that Miles was otherwise occupied, and had given his husband’s boss more than enough…leniencies on payments to make sure that Miles never learned the truth. And Rumple? He’d be powerless forever before he ever let his husband in on that little secret. He was more than certain that Miles would never shut up if that detail ever made it to his ears. Miles did respect his position as Storybrooke’s primary landlord, but to be the landlord of the very business that he worked at day in and day out? At best, it would cause severe awkwardness between the two of them until Merlin knew when, and at worst, it would lead to another fight. Neither of those options were particularly pleasing to Rumple, so in silence he stayed.

Seeing the harbor all iced up and covered in snow was an odd sight. It was almost as if Rumple could just walk on it.

 

_Why does Miles want to clean this up again?_

_It matters not, I suppose. At least it’ll keep him out of the house for a few days._

A shack of metal and wood resided next to the boat Miles worked on. A shoddily shoveled path led from the paved sidewalk to its entryway. Rumple knocked upon the shack’s door, relieved to hear a much more fearful voice compared to that of his last client’s. Miles’ boss, Lawrence Gilligan, much to the accuracy of his husband’s word, was a very nice, albeit unassertive, man, about Rumple’s age though double his size both ways with greying hair and a mustache that spanned the size of his upper lip. Miles had been working for him long before Robert was ever part of the cursed pirate’s life, and Lawrence appreciated the man more than any other employee he had, admiring his dedication to his tasks.

 

“Is that you Mr. Gold,” a gruff voice asked timidly through the door.

 

“The very same.” The door was opened, but unlike his last collection, a much friendlier face greeted him.

 

“I can’t imagine anyone else who would trudge through this mess,” Lawrence joked. “Please, come in.” Rumple stepped inside, following Miles’ boss to his office. “Just a second. Just need to get into the old vault. How’s Miles? I’m sorry his birthday had to come right in the middle of that aggressive snowstorm.”

 

“Thankfully, it ended up going well. We watched a few movies and cooked together.”

 

“Great to hear. Ah,” Lawrence exclaimed. “Here you go,” he said, stretching out a hand with a white envelope. “Eighty-six fifty, as always.”

 

“Thank you.” Rumple immediately put the envelope into his pocket. After years of loyal and prompt service between the two of them, he trusted that the entirety of his money was all there.

 

“Well, I hope you and Miles have a very happy holidays, and I can’t wait to see him when we all finally get this place back in ship shape.” Lawrence released a hearty laugh. Rumple fought the urge to massage the bridge of his nose.

 

**_Why_ ** _am I not leaving right this instant?_

 

A very bored, very lonely Miles popped into his head. A Miles with nothing better to do than visit Rumple in his shop for hours and hours on end.

 

_Ah. Yes._

 

“I have something else to ask of you,” Rumple stated bluntly.

 

The laughter stopped. Lawrence froze, and a gulp became present through the empty air.

 

“What can I do for you?”

 

“I’m glad you asked,” the landlord said in a matter-of-fact fashion. “I’ve been thinking. With the winter weather only getting worse from here, it seems like a smart idea for you and your workers to catch whatever fish you can before the great outdoors becomes…brutal. Heaven forbid we have another snowstorm, and the fallout was unable to be cleaned up as easily as this. Such a feat of weather, it would make securing ends meet rather difficult, correct?”

 

“Y-yes. What do you have in mind?”

 

“I want that harbor and your business up and running again by sunset on New Year’s Eve.” A wince escaped Lawrence. He looked, more than anything, like he waned to say no, despite the fact that was hardly an option. He didn’t like the situation the snowstorm put him into, but imposing a cleanup effort, or really, anything, was one thing he disliked more. At some point he **would** get his employees to start repairing the harbor, but at the moment, he’d sooner wait for his worker’s need to line their pockets to outweigh their laziness to take on such a project.

 

“In the spirit of the holidays,” Rumple added, “I’m going to be understanding. They will begin reconstruction of the docks starting the afternoon after Christmas. I expect your men to be toiling here no later than half past noon. Do we have an understanding?”

 

“Y-y-y-yes, Mr. Gold,” he mumbled nervously. “Is that everything?”

 

“I believe so.” Rumple started for the door, giving the man a nod. “Have a good day, and a Merry Christmas.”

 

“S-same to you and Miles.”

 

That night, Miles would receive a text informing him of the news, and would happily recite it to his seemingly oblivious husband. His sparkling white teeth would present themselves as he shared the excitement with the one person on Earth who he felt could genuinely be with him in this excitement.

 

Something about that made Rumple, in a word, happy.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Miles seems to be doing a great job at bringing out Rumple’s good side, wouldn’t you say? But don’t get too excited. Our favorite imp is far from being redeemed, I can promise you that. Will that even happen? Will Rumple’s villainy be able to stand against Miles’ loving soul? Stay tuned to find out!
> 
> I hope the two OC’s I wrote in came across well. I personally don’t really like writing them, what with the show’s already enormous cast, but this chapter didn’t give me much of an option. I tried to give them both, particularly Benny, a biiiiit more complexity. I don’t like writing strawmen, and think 99.9999% of the time, unless they exist for reasons of parody, are completely lazy. For this reason, I wanted to flesh out his character just a bit more. I don’t expect to see him again, but it’s nice knowing that he exists. I even surprised myself in that I was able to somehow defend Rumple’s actions as a landlord, as horrible as they may be. I think I can fairly toot my own horn to that one!
> 
> Please review!!!! I put in a lot of work on these chapters, and the only reward I seek is the sweet written compensation that comes with a review.
> 
> Also, type “SNEAK PEEK PLEASE “ into your review for a preview of the next chapter!!!!
> 
> Have a great day, enjoy the new episode if you’re watching, and see you next chapter!


	13. Season's Greetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time nor any of the show’s characters.
> 
> A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed! 
> 
> Sorry for the wait! I meant for this to come out around the holidays (Ergo, the chapter’s title), but got some severe writer’s block! I hope that it can at least be like a last drop of holiday goodness, akin to the sweetness of a final Christmas cookie. With that being said, I hope you had a Happy Holidays, no matter what you celebrated!
> 
> So, before we start up, I’d like to give some credit to two great writers and their respective works. When I was first looking through Tumblr’s Golden Hook tag, I found these works, and their premises are what inspired “Marital Bliss’” creation. At fist, I didn’t credit them because I felt that while the premise was borrowed, the execution was different enough that it didn’t really need to be mentioned. Recently, though, I’ve had a change of heart (I can promise you that no confrontation took place concerning this fic), and wanted to recommend these two wonderful stories. Both of them are available on AO3, so to my fanfiction.net peeps, sorry, but you’re going to have to do some travelling. XD I’m the only Golden Hook writer on that site so far! The first story is “He Asked for Comfort,” and it’s by Crysania. It’s the first one I came across, and it’s a much darker turn on the lives of Killian and Rumple’s cursed married life, with a couple of other changes to canon as well. There is some beautiful language in this story, and some of Rumple’s dialogue is hilarious! The other one is called “Fool’s Gold,” by Akaiba. This story is a bit more of an after-the-fact with how it takes their marriage, wherein it takes place after the curse, but Killian falls over the town line, regaining his cursed self. I love the emotions in this story. The weight of Rumple’s choices is really felt by the reader in a way I can only hope to one day achieve with “Marital Bliss.”
> 
> Both of these stories are simply incredible, and for fans of “Marital Bliss,” it could be fun to see where some of my inspiration came from! So, please check them out. If you’re on AO3, they should both be in my bookmarks.
> 
> Well, I think I bored you enough with this long-ass intro, so let’s jump in without further adieu!
> 
> Enjoy!

**Season’s Greetings**

 

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“Miles! I think this wreath looks crooked! Could you come in here and check?”

 

“One sec, Rob! Just gotta put this pie in the oven, and I’m there!”

 

Rumple was almost surprised that his husband was able to hear him at all. The space between them was occupied by the sounds of loud Christmas carols playing on a radio in the den. Right now, it was “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.” Low and behold, though, a response did in fact touch Rumple’s ears.

 

_I guess that’s what happens when your husband works on a ship._

Rumple tried to fiddle with the piece of décor a bit more, but unfortunately, it proved to be just a hair’s length out of reach. Even on his toes, weighted on his cane, he was just barely able to touch it. The wreath’s mounting victory was beginning to irk the cursed imp to the point where he seriously debated taking his cane and whacking at the pine circle as if it were a piñata, **and** caused him to fail to hear the footsteps of the house’s other occupant as he approached him.

 

“Looks fine to me,” Miles commented. Rumple stiffened, and in shock, turned around and cowered directly into his husband’s chest. Miles snickered. “Caught you off guard, didn’t I?” Rumple looked at himself, at their position. His hands were balled into fists with pieces of Miles’ shirt wrapped in between his fingers. His forehead was pressed against the man’s upper torso. Miles’ left arm had wrapped itself around his back instinctively. Standing like this, he looked closer to a child than a grown man.

 

_How did **this** happen?_

Rumple’s face turned red as a beet. He pushed Miles away in an attempt to save face, or at least as well as he could, considering Miles was still holding him. A smirk graced the cursed pirate’s face, and he glared at the expression. “Not. Funny,” he sniped sharply.

 

“You’re right. Hil-a-ri-ous,” Miles teased, placing emphasis on every syllable of his last word. Rumple tried once again to separate them, but Miles’ grip once again held him in place. “Ah, ah, ah,” Miles discouraged before his eyes signaled upwards. Rumple’s followed, and this time, he let the oncoming groan freely escape him.

 

Directly above them sat a slender, yet unmistakably present piece of mistletoe.

 

_Not again!_

Miles did this every year. The night before Christmas, all through the house, while not a creature was stirring, his husband was setting up mistletoe plants in the spots they most often stood together. Even **Robert** found it a bit exasperating at times, and he was actually in love with the guy!

 

Disgruntled though resigned, Rumple quickly placed a peck on the other man’s lips, one so tiny and quick that it hardly felt by its recipients. “Nice try,” Miles said. “Now how about a **real** kiss?”

 

“You just got it,” Rumple joked in a matter-of-fact fashion. Miles rolled his eyes, but removed his arm from Rumple’s backside.

 

“Fine, but you know that’s not the last you’re going to see of this little plant, love. Not by a long shot. **And** I might not be so inclined to hold meself back when Emma and Mary Margaret are here.” Miles showed off his pearly white teeth in another smirk.

 

Rumple shuddered despite himself. No matter how good it was for his cause, he still abhorred the idea of he and Miles kissing in public, let alone in front of the Savior of all people.

 

Rumple was originally taken aback when Miles first brought up the idea of inviting Emma and her roommate to join them for Christmas dinner, but naturally, he readily agreed to the proposal. Apparently, after Rumple dropped Miles off following their lunch date the other day, Miles had taken it upon himself to visit the sheriff’s office to offer her season’s greetings. A conversation ensued, where from what Miles told him, Emma discussed her frustrations about Mary Margaret’s rather complicated love life; day after day, she had to put up with hearing the schoolteacher stress about anything that could serve to cover up her relationship drama with one David Nolan. Miles offered her a possible reprieve: have the two of them over for dinner, and allow conventional etiquette rules to work their charm and keep woman quiet for the evening. Even if it didn’t work, Emma would have Miles to hang around with. Rumple was certain that the blonde probably had more than a few reservations about spending the evening with him, but she obviously found enough solace in Miles’ and Mary Margaret’s presences to brush it off. That was fine by him, of course. Any excuse to be around to the Savior was welcomed, her feelings be damned. In truth, Rumple didn’t expect Emma and her roommate to stay much longer than for dinner, and maybe a Christmas movie if they all had enough to drink. That, he had prepared for as well with a bottle of regular wine for his guests and some nonalcoholic wine for himself. Still, conversation was conversation, and with the influence of Miles and enough alcohol on his side, who knew what secrets Emma would spill.

 

Unfortunately, that very same alcohol-induced advantage had a funny way of turning against him when it came to his husband.

 

“Be on your best behavior, Miles,” Rumple commanded sternly.

 

“I can promise you that, my love, but I shall warn you: when that endeavor involves you and Christmas, I find that you give me far too much credit as to what my best behavior entails.” Miles lessened the space between them again, planting a sensual kiss on his lover’s cheek.

 

Rumple groaned openly again. Christmas was normally an enjoyable time for Robert, but nothing could be further from the truth for Rumple. This would be their first real holiday together, and the blond simply didn’t know how it would go over. The past few ones had passed by quietly enough. Halloween had Miles out for drinks with friends while Rumple enjoyed his first night alone since he was released from the curse’s grasp with a good book and countless swigs of brandy to get the taste of his husband out of his mouth. Thanksgiving was nothing more than a relaxed feast for them, though Rumple had his work cut out for him convincing Miles not to make a grilled swordfish in lieu of a turkey.

 

Today, though, was a big holiday, one that couldn’t be ignored or brushed aside quite so easily.

 

At this point, Rumple’s fears of Miles asking for sex were more or less vanquished, but Christmas time was still made for a very romantic setting all the same. While Miles, at his husband’s request, usually refrained from most public displays of affection, he became much less reliable under the influence of alcohol, something he readily indulged in during the holidays. Any combination of the holiday spirit and rum could set him off, and Rumple wasn’t looking forward to it to put it bluntly.

 

Suddenly, that promise of mistletoe became very frightening. This was the second piece that the blond had encountered today, and he knew from experience that there were at least three more of them lying around.

 

Thus far, much to Rumple’s contentment, Miles occupied most of Christmas Eve cooking, leaving Rumple to his own devices within the house’s confines. Not wanting a repeat if the last time he was snowed in, this time, Rumple planned accordingly, and packed a few magical texts in advance. He cozied himself up in his basement office while Miles toiled away in the kitchen above him, only taking pauses to taste test some of his husband’s food. As for Christmas Day, one of their gifts to each other was a morning of sleeping in, and Miles insisted after making them brunch that he wanted to work with his recipes a bit more before the company arrived.

 

Speaking of…

 

**Ding-dong.**

 

The doorbell’s ring echoed through the corridor Rumple and Miles occupied.

 

“Just a second,” Miles called out. He and Rumple stared at each other. Rumple’s eyes formed and held onto a glare.

 

“Best behavior,” the cursed imp mouthed out quietly, but not quite noiselessly.

 

“Fine,” Miles returned in a matching voice, sprinkled with a tone of good-natured exasperation. He turned away from Rumple, the ambiguous state of the wreath beside them now completely forgotten as the couple looked at the door. Miles opened up the front door, and a wide grin stretched on his face.

 

“Swan! Mary Margaret! Merry Christmas!” The man moved out of the way so that the roommates could enter the house. As Emma and Mary Margaret came inside and joyously returned Miles’ sentiments, Rumple couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow. For someone who he doubted really wanted to be a guest in his home, Mary Margaret unquestionably went all out in her attempts at courtesy. In her arms was a bowl of fresh fruit as well as a box of what the blond could only assume were assorted confections. Emma’s hands were just as full, with a big green box with a red ribbon and bow taking up most to all of her free space.

 

“Let me take that from you,” Miles said, relieving the schoolteacher of the food in her hands, and heading into the kitchen.

 

“A pleasure, as always, to see you Miss Swan, Miss Blanchard. Merry Christmas.” Rumple took Emma’s package, putting it inside the den, before putting their coats in the closet. The roommates returned the sentiment with varying degrees of excitement. Mary Margaret tensed up when Rumple approached her, and instinctively reached for her phone, as of she was expecting to see something on the dimmed screen.

 

_I can see why Emma wanted a break from this._

Emma, by contrast, looked at him coolly and unwaveringly. Rumple simply kept up a pleasant smile as their eyes met.

 

“Nice house,” she commented.

 

“Thank you,” he answered. “It’s so wonderful to finally have you two over.” A pregnant pause loomed over the three, this time to the tune of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” before a voice once again reached out beyond the den’s loud music.

 

“Rob,” Miles called from the other room, “can you help me bring dinner out?”

 

“Be right there,” Rumple returned. “If you two would like, please make your way to the dining room. Everything should be out in a moment.” True to his word, within minutes, Rumple and Miles had the entire feast out and ready for the group’s dining experience.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Miles had outdone himself this year.

 

The dining room table was laid out with all manner of dishes, stretching from mashed potatoes and creamed spinach all the way to glazed ham. It wasn’t much of a shocker for Rumple. From his point of view, Miles’ cooking was easily the most bearable part of his life since the two of them entered this unwitting arrangement. . Back when he abhorred every waking moment of the cursed pirate’s presence throughout his day, the food the man provided was the only good thing about coming come from the privacy of his shop. Every morsel of food on his plate was succulent and perfectly prepared.

 

_Not bad for a one-handed fisherman._

 

Thankfully, despite completing the shopping before the decision to invite two more guests was made, it was quickly apparent that there was more than enough food to go around. Miles had a habit of always making too much food around the holidays anyways. It was nice to know that that very habit was about to pay off.

 

“Everything smells wonderful,” Mary Margaret said. Rumple looked over at her as she exuberantly smiled at the company before her. The schoolteacher certainly looked stressed, but definitely less so than when she first came in.

 

_I can say a lot about Miles, but I can’t deny he’s not a bad planner._

Everybody started readily filling their plates, passing around dish after dish until everyone was satisfied with what they got.

 

Then came the quiet.

 

The far-too-long-lasting-for-anyone’s-comfort quiet.

 

Rumple was sure had he not been here, Miles, Emma, and Mary Margaret would’ve all gotten on fine, and had a lively dinner. However, the fact remained that he **was** there, and boy, did it show!

 

_This may end up being a very long night._

Rumple was good at manipulation, but social situations proved to be his Kryptonite. In this realm, he had no advantages, and apart from one person, wasn’t very well liked.

 

The room wasn’t noiseless, but it wasn’t exactly strident with sound either. Only the clanking of silver forks and knives against porcelain plates could be heard. It was like taking a test in a classroom; it had just enough noise to indicate that there were others there, but those few sounds of crackling pencils and rustling sheets could hardly alleviate the tenseness in the room. Rumple could see the growing look of dissatisfaction on his husband’s face as they ate, practically hearing the man’s thoughts. Said dissatisfaction finally culminated in the younger man speaking out.

 

“So, Swan,” Miles said, breaking the silence. “There’s something I’m a bit curious about.”

 

“What’s that,” the blonde asked.

 

“You told me a while back about a superpower of yours. You said that you could tell when people were deceiving you. How does such a power work?”

 

Rumple hushed a snort. He had learned of Emma’s superpower early on. He had actually been the one behind it. Back in their world, when Snow White summoned him to aid in a test of Regina’s potential for redemption, he instantly saw the young princess’ pregnancy. Knowing before he was ever asked that Snow’s child would be the Savior, he cast a spell that would make the unborn baby’s job a bit…simpler. A blessing of nearly flawless lie detection was both the perfect tool to give the Savior both general information and a coy introduction to her otherworldly origins.

 

Emma pondered Miles’ question. “When I talk to someone, I can just read them, and tell if they’re lying or not,” Emma replied. “It’s everything; their face, their eyes, how they speak. It just all comes together, and when something’s up, something inside me just clicks.”

 

“When did you first discover you had such an ability?”

 

“I was a kid. One of my foster families told me they were looking into adopting me. I could tell something was wrong, but they kept dismissing it.” Emma sighed. “About a week later, I found out I was right,” she finished in a grumble.

 

“Swan,” Miles said, taking a tone of sobriety with his blonde friend.

 

“It’s fine,” Emma dismissed, her tone showing a level of disbelief in even her own words. She looked down at her food. It looked and smelled great, but suddenly, she wasn’t very hungry anymore.

 

Everyone got uneasy for a moment, leading to another elongated pause that finally ended when a previously quiet guest decided to speak. With Emma and Miles both clearly having trouble making conversation after such a depressing confession, and Rumple offering up nothing to fill the silence in the air, Mary Margaret seemed to take it upon herself to bring up a topic.

 

“Are you two going to Granny’s New Year’s party?”

 

_Oh no!_

While Robert and Miles didn’t really put in much of an effort to ever celebrate the beginning of the New Year, a lot of that reason was because the couple was never invited anywhere. Many of the townspeople liked Miles, but, as an invitation for him meant an invitation for his far less adored husband by proxy, they tended to keep the couple outside of their plans. It was honestly fine, albeit guilt-inducing for Robert. It wasn’t like he’d rather spend the meaningless holiday with anyone else anyways. Rumple had resolved from the moment he received the verbalized invitation form Ruby to not disclose the information to his husband. Now though, thanks to the schoolteacher, those plans had just gone down the drain if Miles’ expectant look was anything to go by.

 

_My lady, feel lucky that you birthed the Savior, lest my mercy be not so great._

“A-ah, yes,” Rumple spoke, doing his best to play dumb. “I’m sorry. It must’ve slipped my mind. The young Miss Lucas invited me yesterday.”

 

“Want to go,” Miles asked, shrugging.

 

Rumple was all but ready to say no, but in the face of three sets of eyes, one of whose being the Savior’s, the task was easier said than done. Besides, if Mary Margaret was going, it was all but an inevitability that she would bring along her dear friend Emma. Even with the prospect of having to deal with his new “friend” Ruby, the benefits of the decision could hardly be ignored.

 

“Why not,” he finally answered, smiling at Miles.

 

_Look on the bright side Rumple. At least it won’t be yet another night alone with nothing but him._

_…_

_Why do I get the feeling that this is going to be far worse?_

“Should be fun,” Miles said excitedly. “We hardly ever do anything for New Years. A rather senseless holiday if you ask me, but hey, a night out’s a night out.”

 

Mary Margaret’s efforts appeared to be the final key needed to get conversations flowing. From then on, everyone got involved in the dinnertime discussions, and the topics varied greatly, covering everything from funny work incidents to news stories to favorite Christmas traditions.

 

In contrast to the weather outside, the ice had finally been broken.

 

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A reprieve from conversation as she and her other companions brought their dishes to the Gold family’s kitchen gave Emma a chance to reflect on her evening thus far, one she truly appreciated.

 

The night had been a lucky one for the blonde sheriff so far, a fact that she wouldn’t deny. Thanks to Miles’ generosity, she managed to escape another night alone with her neurotic roommate and actually managed to make the schoolteacher forget that David Nolan even existed for an hour!

 

More than relaxed though by her friend’s mannerisms, Emma had found herself surprised at how Rumple and Miles interacted. Perhaps it was just the settings that she had seen them in together thus far, but the couple had never seemed as…intimate as they looked tonight. This evening, they joked around, smiled at each other, and even told a story or two together. Of course Emma knew that they had a strong connection, but this was the first time she really had a chance to see it in action. **This** was closer to the couple she believed the two would be like when Miles first described their relationship to her.

 

And she liked it. The Mr. Gold she saw right now was much more like the man who she felt Miles deserved in his life; someone to make him happy.

 

That didn’t, however, mean that she wanted to talk to the pawnbroker by any means. So far, she had done a spectacular job of avoiding directly speaking with the man, either by allowing one of her friends the chance to respond in her place or just by directing her responses to any of his inquiries towards their whole group. Unfortunately for Emma, for as lucky as her night had seemed to be thus far, it appeared as though her luck had just run out when Miles and Mary Margaret stood up.

 

“Dessert time,” Miles called out. “Hope your appetites are still plentiful!”

 

“I better help you,” Mary Margaret suggested. Emma started to get up, but Miles stopped her with an outstretched arm.

 

“You two sit tight,” Miles hollered as he and the schoolteacher disappeared into the adjacent hallway. “We’ll be right back!” Emma heard a bump come from the kitchen very soon after her friends left the dining room.

 

_Looks like the wine’s getting to Miles._

As the sounds from the kitchen quieted, so did the realization of just where she was come to her.

_Oh, great. Alone with him now._

At least while Miles and Mary Margaret had been around, there were other people to talk to. Emma had been able to, for the most part, ignore her friend’s husband in favor of her other companions without much difficulty. Now, though, it was just them alone, forced by the very social convention that saved Emma’s night to talk.

 

Emma was pretty sure Rumple shared at least the same stratosphere of her shock, because he had yet to say anything to her, despite the unsure look on his face telling her that he had every intention of doing so. Upon examining the man’s mannerisms, Emma started to see just how co-dependent he could be when he was on his own in situations like this. She got the feeling that unless she was dealing with someone like Miles who he shared a deep relationship with or one of his clients who he could easily intimidate, this was how he was when it came to actually interacting with people on a casual level.

 

_Something tells me small talk isn’t this guy’s specialty._

 

“How’s your son,” Rumple inquired, looking over at Emma. Emma blinked, taking a second to register the question.

 

“He’s…fine,” she answered, looking down at the table and biting her lip.

 

“You see him at all during the holiday?” Emma eyed him, but he just smiled at her, perhaps out of nerves.

 

“Yeah. We had lunch at Granny’s yesterday.”

 

“Did you get him anything for Christmas?”

 

“A journal with a snake on it.” Even as she said it, the sheriff was careful not to use one specific word to describe the emblem that decorated her son’s gift: cobra.

 

_It’ll probably upset the kid if Gold finds out about Operation Cobra._

 

Emma knew Gold had heard a word or two about she and Henry’s little operation while engaged in their group chat the night of the fire. Henry didn’t elaborate on it when Miles pressed, but Emma had no doubt that if anyone would remember it, it would be the man in front of her. The very man who she was all too aware would do anything to get what he wanted, up to and including involving her son when it wasn’t called for.

 

“Funny you should say that,” said man retorted.

 

Emma furrowed her eyebrows and made eye contact with the wizard. “Why?”

 

“I happened to be in the bookshop last week, and saw Henry purchase the exact same thing. How funny would it have been had he given you the exact same present?”

 

“He actually did,” the blonde admitted slowly, thinking back to the other day when she received the diary. Emma’s eyes perked up, as if she just had a realization. “No wonder the guy at the bookstore was laughing when I paid for it,” the woman muttered. Rumple chuckled, and Emma’s eyes narrowed suspiciously in response. “You’re in a good mood.”

 

“Come, Miss Swan. You have to admit that’s adorable.”

 

_Okay, it was._

 

“He’s a cute kid,” she shrugged.

 

“You two seem to get on very well. Sometimes, when I’m driving, I see the two of you talking on the playground.”

 

Emma grew uneasy quickly at Rumple’s mention of that. Henry’s castle was a special place for she and Henry. When they were hanging out on that sandy playground, they seemed to connect on a deeper level. There, she felt like the last ten years hadn’t happened and they had been mother and son the whole time. They shared secrets, and stories, and jokes. Henry would go on about Operation Cobra and who everyone in the tow was or hours. Emma swore one time, he was listing people off by their stores on Main Street, stretching all the way from Granny’s to Any Given Sundae! Emma, digressed, but the point was still the same: that place was special to her. The idea that someone else, barring Mary Margaret, knew about the general transpirations of that place, let alone Gold of all people, made Emma apprehensive to say the very least.

 

“You should be glad that you and your boy have a place like that,” Rumple continued. As Emma noted his words, a recollection resurfaced in her mind: Gold had also had a child at one point. She hardly had the chance to ask more about him since she learned of his existence, but she wouldn’t deny that it was something she wanted to learn more about. Not to mention, if Emma was being honest with herself, what better time was there to ask about memories like those than during Christmas?

 

“Your son, what was his name?” Her companion blinked, mirroring Emma’s action from before. He stared at her for a few more seconds before answering.

 

“Oliver,” Rumple said.

 

“What was he like?”

 

“Other than the greatest son a man could ask for? He was wide-eyed and curious, like most boys his age. He was brave and clever and just a little bit frank, not unlike your Henry, though he never ran away or stole credit cards.” Emma furrowed her brow at him at the mention of Henry’s misdeeds, but Rumple continued. “I wanted to give him everything I ever could.” Rumple’s eyes darkened. “But I failed. He and his mother died in a car accident, the same one that my limp stems from. Some drunk decided that his inebriated control of the road was more important than the safety of my family.” Rumple’s tone was sharp, and his hands curled into fists. Emma’s eyes widened. It was the closest the pawnbroker had ever come to showing true anger to her, though it didn’t last long. Gold must’ve remembered where he was, because with a shake of his head and a deep breath, he was himself again. “But that’s the past, and I’ve made my peace with it, at least as best as I could.”

 

“I don’t think I ever could if something like that happened to Henry,” Emma confessed.

 

“It’s daunting,” Rumple acknowledged truthfully. “I don’t think I ever would’ve gotten by without Miles.”

 

“He’s a pretty great man.” Emma could’ve sworn she saw Rumple’s eyes narrow for a second before he responded.

 

“He sure is.”

 

And just like that, Miles, alongside Mary Margaret, returned, each with armfuls of pastries and fruit, and just as instantly, she and the now less mysterious pawnbroker’s thought-provoking conversation was over.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Despite the evening’s shaky beginnings, it had not been a fruitless endeavor, that much was certain as far as Rumple was concerned. His and Emma’s discussion had forged what he believed was some loose form of camaraderie. Rumple was confident that a certain level of trust had been restored to him after bonding over their love for their children.

 

_That boy’s quite the tool._

 

Unfortunately for Rumple, at one point during his and Emma’s talk, things had gotten too real, and he had to shake his head just to bring himself back to reality. He knew the story of Oliver’s past wasn’t real, but anytime he thought, even about Baelfire’s fake story, he just imagined every possibility where his search would end in the discovery of a grave marked with his son’s name. Rumple had to constantly remind himself that there was still hope of rescuing his boy, and that he, against all odds, Evil Queens, and Captains, would find him.

 

Much to Rumple’s chagrin, Emma had only helped herself to one glass of wine over the course of the long dinner. Not even Mary Margaret gave the bottle more than one small pour. No, the only one who readily engaged themselves in the bottle time and time again was, of course, Miles. The man continued to fill and refill his cup just as quickly as he drowned it down. Because of that, his eyes grew glossier, his speech more slurred, and consequently, his stories more embarrassing, and at the moment, they happened to be in the midst of a doozy.

 

“By the end of the night, I was stuck watching half of The King’s Speech with a full bladder ‘cause **this one** ,” Miles said, playfully nudging Rumple, “fell asleep while holding onto me arm!” Miles burst out laughing, and Emma and Mary Margaret couldn’t contain their snickers. Rumple glowered, but held himself back.

 

“Okay, Miles. I think that’s enough storytelling for one night,” he beseeched, attempting to play the situation cool as he moved the other man’s alcohol-ridden glass away from him. Rumple looked up towards his other two dining companions. “How about we go into the other room? We have A Miracle on 34th Street.” The two, much to Rumple’s relief, nodded, and Rumple and a graceless Miles began to lead the way into the den. The comfortable living room’s entryway was but an inch away from the wizard’s face when suddenly, he felt a pulling sensation from the back of his shirt collar. He stopped in his tracks and turned his head around, only to see Miles’ hand on his shirt and his body approaching Rumple’s from the front. Rumple got worried. There was something in Miles smile that was just… **sinister**. He looked at the younger man, clearly confused. The two women who the couple was previously leading into the room watched from a distance, viewing the scene as it played out.

 

“Is something wrong,” Rumple wondered aloud.

 

Miles raised a flawless brow. “You tell me.” His piercing blue eyes headed upwards towards the ceiling.

 

Rumple voiced his confusion in a faint “what,” but upon looking up, the sound died in his throat.

 

“Mistletoe,” Emma commented. A smirk crossed her face as she leaned across the nearest wall, and her roommate blushed.

 

“Pucker up,” Miles smugly suggested before leaning his face towards Rumple’s. Rumple couldn’t get a word in edgewise before their lips pressed against one another. The pawnbroker whined into the smooch just as fiercely as he strength he put into returning it. Just the kiss itself would’ve been bad enough, but **no**.

 

It had one of **those** kisses.

 

This was one of the very kisses that brought Rumple to his wit’s end, and left his body in a horrible state of perplexity over how to react to them. They were from Hook, yes, but they were also so **good**. Too good to deny. His body reacted faster than his mind, and immediately, he was returning the gesture, tact and grace being damned in the process. While this was happening, Rumple’s knees threatened to buckle beneath him, and the blond was convinced his cane was his sole saving grace from that fate.

 

Rumple counted seven seconds exactly before Miles released his lips.

 

“Now **that’s** a kiss,” Miles teased, a triumphant smirk upon his face with a wink added for good measure. Rumple put up an upset front, but Miles clearly wasn’t buying it. The cursed imp didn’t settle on whether to attribute that to either Miles’ intuition or the wine in his belly. Either way, he was flustered by it, and said flustering led to an inconspicuous patch of heat settling in on his cheeks. He looked down, but was able to catch a glance of the unknowing mother and daughter getting quite the eyefuls as he did so.

 

If their faces were anything to go by, Rumple had a sneaking suspicion they weren’t going to forget that moment anytime soon.

 

Rumple sat on the armchair next to the couch. The sofa only had enough room for three people, and the moment that kiss ended, he decided he was **not** going to be one of them. Miles didn’t seem to be disheartened by that fact, clearly satisfied by their brush under the mistletoe.

 

_The moment I get my magic back, that plant dies._

The group enjoyed the movie in relative peace, only stirring for refills on drinks, all of which were from Miles, and bathroom breaks. When it was finally over, Emma and Mary Margaret at last felt it was a fitting time to take their leave.

 

“These are from us,” Rumple said, handing each of their guests a medium sized box covered by red wrapping paper. The two roommates opened up their presents, delighted to see hot cocoa and mug sets.

“Merry Christmas, Swan,” Miles loudly cheered as Rumple gave her back her coat.

 

“Merry Christmas, Miles,” Emma returned, stifling a laugh as she pat her inebriated friend on the shoulder.

 

“Emma,” Rumple said, stepping forward with an outstretched hand as Miles bit their other guest farewell. “Merry Christmas.” Emma looked at the hand, but unlike when they were first left alone, her eyes looked…softer.

 

“Merry Christmas,” she answered genuinely. She met his hand with her own as they locked eyes and shook. After a less sincere goodbye, the two roommates were off, and Rumple and Miles were once again left on their own to finish off the remaining hours of the holiday together.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Hours passed. The couple watched another holiday movie, during which, after a bit of begging, Rumple was persuaded to rejoin his pleading husband on the sofa to relax together. After being entranced by the lull of the film’s credits music, Rumple rested in Miles’s arms, and for a moment, the two did nothing but admire their simple, yet elegant tree. It was composed of a basic stretch of lights on every level of the tree, with a gold-colored star adorning the treetop.

 

“Beautiful tree,” Rumple commented.

 

“Beautiful man to watch it with,” Miles returned. For as drunk as the man obviously was, he held himself together well enough for the moment. “I think this was a great Christmas.”

 

Rumple couldn’t help but agree. “Me too, though I’m convinced you just liked it because you got to show off your cooking to our guests.”

 

“Untrue,” Miles argued. Rumple was sure his husband knew that his accusation was made in jest, but as Miles pulled them both upwards so that they were sitting upright, he had to wonder just what was going through his dear husband’s mind. Hands and Miles’ stub met in the space between their bodies. “It was great because I got to spend it with you.”

Rumple knew what was coming. Headed his was another heartfelt anecdote from the man before him. Rumple didn’t like how undeniably genuine they were, and worse, how he was starting to empathize with Miles over them.

 

_Not going to happen, dearie._

“Spare me a sappy speech,” he jokingly pleaded. “Between the ones you gave me on your birthday, and the one you gave me last week, I’m surprised my cheeks haven’t been permanently shaded the color of a tomato.”

 

Miles snorted. “Fine,” he shrugged. “But that very sparing is your present.”

 

“I think not!”

 

_If I’m to live under this curse, I might as well get something out of it._

“You **sure** ,” Miles coyly said in a singsong tone.

 

“Not. Going. To. Happen,” Rumple snipped.

 

Miles burst out into a fit of laughter and pulled Rumple in right next to him. “I love you Rob. You’re hysterical.” Miles allowed the giggles to slowly fade away while Rumple battled the urge to pull away from his not even subtly drunk husband as his neck stayed cradled under the younger man’s arm.

 

_I’m not sure which smells worse: His underarm or the wine on his lips._

 

“Alright, alright,” the cursed pirate breathed, settling down as the last of his giggles left his lungs. “Here’s your present,” he said, taking a small notepad out of his jacket pocket using his free hand.

Rumple took the notepad that was barely bigger than the height of his hand into his possession. On the cover, written in a black Sharpie, were the words, ‘Happy Holidays, Rob!’

 

“Open it,” Miles demanded boisterously. Rumple was tempted to cover his ears, but the present in his hand made him dismiss the idea. He opened the book, and looked at the largely printed words that made up the first page.

 

‘One Free Half-Hour Foot Rub.’

 

“Miles,” Rumple beckoned. “What is this?” He looked back to meet Miles’ eyes that seemed to be what should be a rare cross between excited and smug, but Rumple knew it to be far too common for the younger man.

 

“A coupon book.”

 

Rumple raised an eyebrow. “A coupon book, huh?”

 

“Yeah,” Miles responded excitedly. “I read about them online! They’re supposed to be fun. There’s a bunch of chores and activities in there. You pick out what you want me to do, give me the coupon, and I do it. See, I made a bunch of them!” Rumple sifted through the notebook, and looked through the different coupons. A few of them were a bit on the clichéd side like, ‘One Night of Dish Duty,’ ‘One Free Load of Laundry,’ and the coveted ‘One Free Victory in a Fight.’ Some, however, were a bit more creative and useful, like ‘One Free Dusting of the Pawnshop,’ ‘Rob Gets to Pick out Dinner,’ and ‘One Night of Peace and Quiet.’ There were even duplicates of most of them, what Rumple assumed was an attempt at filling up the notebook easier. Despite its simplicity, Rumple couldn’t stop himself from liking it. Miles clearly put some work into it, thinking of all the different tasks he would put into what looked like a 50-page notebook, and there was clearly a lot he was willing to do on Rumple’s behalf.

 

It was a nice gift.

 

_These may come in handy sometime._

_It’s definitely better than that “present,” if it even deserves to be called that, that our guests left us with._

Yes, before they left, Emma and Mary Margaret had given them a present: a waffle iron. Rumple was baffled by its mere existence in their home, even hours after the two women left. Miles looked adequately content with the gift, but the cursed wizard had to hold back a ghastly expression from appearing on his face after unboxing it. The couple hardly ever ate breakfast, and on the odd occasion that they **did** , the result was much more appetizing than…waffles.

 

_I think, after the curse ends, I’ll let Hook keep this one._

 

The present reeked of Mary Margaret. Emma, as much as Rumple theorized she hated him, wouldn’t gift them **this** travesty! And the blond was sure Miles wouldn’t resist the urge to try it out, justifying the decision by reminding Rumple the importance of using presents.

 

_I can just hear him saying it now. ‘They took the time to get it for us. We at least owe it to them to try it.’_

 

_I guess I know what I’m having for breakfast for the next week._

In the face of such an oddity, Miles’ gift soon became as good as gold.

“Thank you, Miles,” Rumple said. He planted a soft kiss on his partner’s lips, all the while cautious as to keep his lips tightly shut as to avoid any tomfoolery. Miles, however, was having none of that, and pushed his tongue into the entryway of Rumple’s mouth. Rumple reluctantly accepted the invitation, and became further distressed by the actions that followed.

 

_Not those kisses again._

Miles was on him, and he was on him hard. Every stroke of the tongue made Rumple both whine in disdain and shudder in delight at the same time. The taste of alcohol on Miles’ tongue was strong, strong enough that a light burning sensation spread into Rumple’s mouth. In seconds, their chests were pulled together with their arms secured behind each other’s backs, the blond’s present now a forgotten slice of onion in the sandwich that was their embrace. Miles moaned into their kisses. “Oh Rob,” he loudly moaned during a break for air. “I love you.” More kissing. “So much.” Another kiss. “God, how did I end up married to the most amazing man alive?”

 

“You didn’t,” Rumple retorted between a kiss. “You got married to me.”

 

“One in the same, love.” A moan that sounded more like a neighing horse escaped the younger man’s lips. “Let’s stay here forever. Never leave the house again. Just you and me.”

 

“I think the rum has, at last, consumed the final remnants of your brain cells.”

 

“Swan could bring us pizza!”

 

“Eh. I’d get bored of you soon enough.”

 

Miles broke the kiss and looked at Rumple with an expression of mock hurt. “Bored of **me**? Well I never! Fine, I don’t want you for that long anyways.” The younger man put up a pout and dramatically twisted his head to the side.

 

“You can’t reject me like that,” Rumple said, playing along.

 

“And you **can**!” Miles’ façade fell apart. “Bit of a double standard, love. But whatever, come here!” Before Rumple had a chance to react, his husband once again pulled him in tight, this time thankfully in a hug.

 

_I swear, if he kisses me one more time, **I’m** going to get drunk off the residuals!_

“Do you like your present,” the cursed pirate inquired.

 

“Yes,” Rumple answered honestly.

 

“Good, because I know what you can give me.” Miles broke the hug.

 

Rumple rolled his eyes. “Has it occurred to you that I already got you a present?”

 

“Yeah,” Miles shrugged. “But I want something else too.”

 

“Aren’t you greedy?”

 

“You tell me.”

 

“Yes. Yes you are.” Miles winked at him, and Rumple sighed. He decided to stop himself there, knowing they could very well argue about it all night. “Well, might as well let me know. What is it that you want?”

 

“Join me.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

And then, Miles did just that.

 

“ _Chestnuts roasted on an open fire_ ,” he sang. “ _Jack Frost nipping at your nose._ ”

 

Rumple groaned. He should’ve seen it coming honestly. For someone who liked hearing the sound of his own voice so much like Rumple and Robert did, a dislike of singing was so peculiar, yet it did exist. When Rumple was back with the spinsters all those centuries ago, they always had him sing carols to make the monotonous day of spinning a bit livelier. The songs they sang were repetitive, he didn’t enjoy the vibrating feeling in his throat, and the spinsters, for all their joking about how they could join the opera, weren’t particularly talented. The whole experience just turned Rumple off from the activity in general, to the point where when he finally ran a household, he worked in complete silence and glared at Milah anytime so much as one musical note left her lips. Robert’s memories weren’t much further off, something about an embarrassing concert when he was a child. He only put up with it occasionally on Miles’ behalf. His husband simply loved hearing him hold a tune, and, in the interest of keeping his lover amused, Robert occasionally gave in when requested and performed a little number for him. Besides, more often than not, Miles was willing to join in, and even Rumple could attest to the fact that the man was quite the gifted musician as well.

 

“You know I can’t stand singing.”

 

“Yeah. I do,” Miles admitted. “But I figured, if I jump in, maybe you’d be willing to. You liked the idea of me doing it three birthdays ago.”

 

“That was until you dropped out, and forced me to finish half of ‘Wanted Dead or Alive’ all by myself.”

 

Miles took Rumple’s hand. “I promise, I won’t leave you this time until you want me to. Please, babe, you’ve the voice of an angel. I just want to hear it on the night that we celebrate them. So, how about it? One song?”

 

_Why did you have to say it like **that**?_

“Fine,” Rumple conceded, only a little sore at his defeat at the cursed pirate’s hand. “ _Yuletide carols being sung by a choir and folks dressed up like Eskimos_ ,” he sang, with Miles immediately joining in. They sang through the entirety of “The Christmas Song,” and through Miles’ persuasion, “White Christmas,” and a couple of others. It was only after finishing “Silent Night” did Rumple realize he was singing mostly on his own. A moment afterwards, the muscles resting beside the blond’s arm suddenly felt far less tense, and a gentle snore made its way to his ears. Rumple looked at his partner.

 

Miles was asleep.

 

Rumple tried to wake him, but to no avail. He was simply too far-gone in his reveries to bother with the demands of reality.

 

_How does this man pass out so quickly?_

 

The blond decided that he would wait until the next day to show off the television he procured for their room. Miles’ birthday may not have been as bad as Rumple predicted it was going to be, but one aspect he could honestly say he didn’t care for in the slightest was being pressed into the couch for a good chunk of it. Should the curse last at least another year, Rumple didn’t want a repeat of that experience.

 

_Oh, Merlin. Please don’t let that be the case._

 

In the meantime, he’d grab a blanket for his sleeping husband, and gravitate himself to the space beside him. As much as he loathed that accursed couch, he still found it all but impossible to sleep without Miles right next to him for the time being. Besides, leaving the room entirely would be simply too cold an action for Rumple to take and he was well aware of it. He hated the position, but for now, it was the most suitable option available. As he crept onto the sofa, underneath the plush blanket’s warmth, he felt Miles pull him in closer rubbing his shoulders with his hand and stub. Despite himself, despite everything that told him how wrong it was, Rumple smiled at him in an appreciating manner, and whispered one final thing to a set of deaf ears before joining the man next to him in the joys of sleep.

 

“Good night, Miles. Merry Christmas.”

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This was a fun chapter to put together. At first, it was just supposed to be Rumple and Miles alone, but one morning the idea of bringing in Emma and Mary Margaret came to mind, and since I wanted to do a scene where Emma has dinner at the Golden Hook house, it ended up working out perfectly!
> 
> While I was writing this, I realized, it’s been about nine months since I posted Chapter 1 of Marital Bliss! Wow! If you had told me one year ago that I would actually start writing fanfiction again, and that I would be THIS successful with keeping it going, I’d have laughed your ass all the way to Storybrooke. Seriously though, thank you to all my readers, whether you’ve been here since the beginning or just joined the readership. I’m so thankful for all of you!
> 
> Again, love it, hate it, or anything in between, please review (Want to shoot for nine reviews for the nine-month anniversary?), AND, more importantly, be sure to also give a read, and certainly a review if you are so inclined, to “He Asked for Comfort,” by Crysania, and “Fool’s Gold,” by Akaiba on AO3. They’re both really good reads, and after inspiring me to write “Marital Bliss,” they totally deserve at least a moment of your time. 
> 
> Next time on Marital Bliss, Miles finally gets between Rumple’s legs! See you soon!


	14. Out With the Old, In With the New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time nor any of the show’s characters.
> 
> I promise I won’t waste too much time, but I have two brief things to bring up in the opening note.
> 
> Let me start off by apologizing for the huge delay. I started two jobs pretty much directly after the release of Chapter 12, and unlike my previous one, I’m not given much time to dwindle away the hours writing for this story. At the same time, the worst of writer’s blocks hit me, and writing for this chapter became nothing less than a chore. For that, I am truly sorry to all my readers. I genuinely believe that this won’t happen again for a while, and from now on, despite my general rejection of deadlines for chapters for this fic, I will strive to have a release schedule that mirrors an updated chapter being posted at least once a month.
> 
> Second, I just wanted to give my readers a brief taste of my thoughts on 5B so far. 
> 
> In short, I am very impressed thus far. I LOVE the Underworld. 
> 
> I think Hades is a great villain, and has the potential to become my new favorite one. I like his sense of humor, I like how he knows everyone’s stories, so there’s little chance of some annoying misunderstanding, I like how intimidating he is without even trying that hard, and, most of all, I like how I have NO idea how Emma and her crew are going to beat him, and, when they inevitably die, how they’re going to find salvation against him. 
> 
> I wish Robin was used in a more interesting way. I don’t like how, even when being handed great opportunities to expand his character and his relationships with the main cast, the writers keep him in the background. It irks me to no end, and it’s my primary reason why he’s my least favorite character out of the main cast. I’ve heard some things, but honestly, I just want his character to improve. 
> 
> Going in the completely different direction is Snow White. Oh, how I’ve missed you!!!!
> 
> My final point about Season 5B is Megara, or more specifically, the backlash against her. Even as I was watching the episode, I knew she was going to be controversial, as her Storybrooke counterpart lacks a lot of the sass that made the Disney version of her so iconic. I…didn’t have a problem with it, and here’s why. One thing I like about Once is how they take these characters that we’ve known for years, and gave us, in most cases, completely different interpretations of them. Captain Hook is actually a handsome smooth-talker. Snow White yields a bow and arrow better than she ever held a broom. Cinderella’s actually allowed to have moments of desperation. The list goes on. So, if we can all accept these interpretations, why not Meg’s? Another part of the backlash against her seems to stem from the fact that she and Hercules can only really appear in this one episode. My response to this is simple: I think we, as an audience, are smart enough to know from the second we saw Hercules, that he was not going to become a full-time cast member, and the same can be said for Meg. There was no foreshadowing to their presences, barring promos, and some interviews beforehand went as far as to confirm this. With that being said, I think we can agree that the focus of the show should be on our full-time main characters, and not characters with little relevance to the plot.
> 
> So, without further adieu, please enjoy Chapter 13!!!!

**Out With the Old, In With the New**

 

The stretch after Christmas was a welcome return to normality in Rumple’s life. Dealing with a hungover Miles the day after the holiday proved to be an easier task than he anticipated, as the man spent about an hour vomiting and spent the rest of the day back at work. The only time the two of them really talked that day was when Rumple gave the man his Christmas present later that evening. Besides that though, their everyday routines were returning to normal.

 

Unfortunately, once more, the two would depart from their regular schedules, if only for one evening.

 

Rumple didn’t want to believe his eyes when he looked at the date on his newspaper this morning.

 

New Year’s Eve.

 

The holiday itself was annoying, but not particularly bothersome in its own right. Hell, if it was just he and Miles spending the evening together, Rumple would’ve dismissed it as just another ordinary night for them. It’s not like they had ever really celebrated it. However, this year had brought the couple an invitation that the blond, more than anything, wanted no part in.

 

_That accursed party._

 

Now, what may have been a quiet, and perhaps possibly even enjoyable evening would instead be plagued by the citizens of Storybrooke at their drunkest, and subsequently, loudest. What’s worse is that they would all be crammed together in a diner with far too few chairs and available free space for his liking. To say the least, Rumple wasn’t looking forward to it, and the closer the party got to him, the more and more he found himself cursing Mary Margaret and Ruby’s names for bringing it up in the first place.

 

Rumple was quite surprised to see both the absence of a smile and a kiss when he arrived home from the pawnshop, the drooping sun setting behind him as the only evidence of the passing day. He could hear the television playing in the den, the voice of anchors joking around with each other dancing in his head. The house was about as noisy as it had ever been, which ended up making Miles’ absence that much more noticeable. In the span of a second, the blond began searching his mind for anything that had seemed off about this morning in regards to his husband. Merlin knows he didn’t want another fight to contend with, especially on an evening where the two would be out in public together!

 

Thankfully, the very man he found himself suddenly worrying about dashed his worries in an instant.

 

_Not worrying. Just concerned for my own causes._

 

“Hey Rob,” Miles called out from the same room that housed their television. Releasing a silent sigh, Rumple made his way to investigate, only to find his husband resting on the sofa belly-first when he entered. An amused smirk crossed Rumple’s face. “My neck’s killing me, love. Would you give it a rub?” Unbeknownst to Miles, whose face was hidden deep in the blue couch cushions, his companion reluctantly nodded, and within seconds, was at Miles’ side, leaning downwards before slowly pressing his thumbs against the back of the younger man’s collarbone.

 

“Oh, that’s good,” Miles spoke in what Rumple could only describe as a cross between a sigh and a moan. The cursed pirate’s fingers balled themselves into a fist as he wailed and begged for more of his husband’s touches.

 

“Let me sit on the couch,” Rumple commanded. “My feet are killing me.” Miles instantly obliged, and the blond continued to massage his shoulders. For a while, neither of them spoke, Rumple too focused on his rubbing and Miles too focused on relaxing himself.

 

“Everything okay,” Miles asked. The wizard hummed an inquiry. “You said your feet hurt,” he quickly elaborated.

 

“I was dusting the shop all day,” the pawnbroker admitted. “Apparently, I can’t afford to neglect cleaning that back room for any more than a week without it becoming a dust bunny’s paradise.” True to what Rumple said, his feet were aching terribly. By the end of his workday, he had put much more of his bodyweight on his cane than he had in quite a while, and his limp had returned tenfold as a result. Miles chuckled, well aware of the room’s usual state of messiness. Rumple glowered, only semi-seriously. “You laugh now, but expect to see that coupon for dusting the shop some time in the very near future,” he stated.

 

_Hmm.._

 

**_That_ ** _gives me an idea..._

 

At first, he protested the notion, internally voicing his disgust over sharing such an intimate act with his husband, but the throbbing in his feet was enough to fully quell any and all misgivings he had.

 

“Speaking of those coupons,” Rumple added slyly. “Remember that one you gave me for a foot massage?”

 

“Yeah,” Miles answered warily, his words cut short by a rather vocal shudder caused by his partner hitting a sweet spot on his aching neck. Rumple took a pause from his scheming and made a mental note about what caused the gracious reaction so that he could do it again.

 

“I’m redeeming it. You can take the coupon out of the book later, but for now, get rubbing,” Rumple commanded.

 

Miles laughed loudly. “Aye, aye sir,” he teased. He pulled Rumple’s legs closer to him with Rumple still behind him, and once he got a grip on his lover’s left shoe, he started pushing it off, taking pleasure in the soft thud it made upon hitting the floor.

 

Rumple raised his eyebrows high as he saw Miles go to deliver a similar attack on the blond’s other shoe. “What do you think you’re doing,” he asked skeptically.

 

“I see no cause for you to stop rubbing my neck **while** I massage your feet,” Miles answered as if it were obvious.

 

“I am quite certain that when you wrote that coupon up, this was not what you had in mind,” he pointed out, somewhat uncomfortably. Rumple looked down. His and Miles’ current position was, in a word, intimate. Miles was quite literally sitting between Rumple’s legs, and from the waist down, Rumple was firmly pressed against his companion’s backside. It certainly left little to the imagination, and the pawnbroker could do nothing else than let the redness settle in on his cheeks.

 

“You’re a lawyer, love. You more than anyone should know the value of words, namely the importance of both what you say and what you **don’t**.” Rumple couldn’t see his husband’s face, but he was certain the man was smirking as he started rubbing the blond’s left foot.

 

He sighed, signaling his surrender. The two continued massaging each other, filling the time with stories about their days before finally settling down to a comfortable silence. The blond closed his eyes as he worked. Rumple had to admit, even though it came with a rather unexpected affidavit, he still enjoyed the relaxing feeling of the knots in his aching feet slowly melting away. At times like these, it was almost easy for him to forget the hatred that existed under the veneer of affection. After all, Miles had never been anything other than a well-intentioned and considerate man, and Rumple didn’t protest the authenticity of it.

 

Well, he didn’t protest it for **Miles** , that is.

 

Hook, on the other hand, was another story **.**

 

No pun intended.

 

Rumple had lived for multiple centuries, but even after all that time, he could never forget what transpired between Killian Jones and he. They only met two times, but for Rumple’s money, it was two times too many. It used to be easy to keep an emotional distance between his husband and he. At first, he had no trouble keeping his enemy’s existence at the forefront of his thoughts. Nowadays, though, with every kind look Hook’s alias gave the cursed wizard, Rumple had to remind himself more and more exactly who it was that was really giving them. The blond was all too often left to wonder just how that had happened. It had been so easy to keep his guard, not to mention disgust and indifference, when he first regained his true identity. What had changed? Had he really become so comfortable in Miles’ presence despite every implication that was brought alongside it? The short answer appeared to be yes. Whatever the case, he had grown to hate the notion that the same body that housed such a sweet man like Miles also held the soul of the man who caused him so much pain.

 

Rumple, in his loss of focus, gave a great sigh as Miles undid one of the knots in his foot.

 

“You really did a number on yourself today,” Miles commented. “Are you gonna be good to go for the party tonight?”

 

“I fail to see why I wouldn’t be,” Rumple snipped defensively. A well-placed ‘hmph’ on his part decidedly kept Miles from pressing the issue.

 

“If you say so,” the younger man shrugged. The back and foot massages continued for another half hour before both men were satisfied with their treatments. Miles let out a yawn. “That was great, but I’m still pretty exhausted. I’m gonna take a nap.” At this point, his speech was more a rumbling murmur than actual words. “Join me?”

 

Rumple looked at his watch. They still had hours until the party, and Rumple wasn’t about to oppose killing off time on what was fated to be an ultimately pointless evening. Not to mention, he too was tired after a full day on his feet. “Sure,” he answered. A few minutes later, and the two were lying shoulder-to-shoulder in their bed, still wearing the same, albeit loosened, clothes they came into the house in earlier.

 

As the time flew by in a comfortable rest, Rumple didn’t bother keeping track of the always-spinning hands of time. Because of that, he felt his heart skip a beat when, after an indeterminate period of unconsciousness, he heard his companion cry a remark into the open air.

 

“ **Shit!** ”

 

Rumple’s eyes snapped open, and he looked to his husband, panic prevalent on his brow. Miles was standing up, in the process of putting on deodorant under his arms.

 

“What’s wrong,” Rumple released in a breath.

 

“Check the time!” Once again, Rumple turned to his watch. He couldn’t believe it as he made sense of the multiple hands on the clock’s face.

 

‘Shit’ was right!

 

It was already half past nine!

 

Somehow, they had both slept for nearly three hours. By now, the party at Granny’s would no doubt be in full swing, and they had already missed a good chunk of it. Rumple quickly got out of bed and groomed himself.

 

_Well, it’s at least a few less hours I’ll have to talk to anyone._

Before the blond knew it, he and Miles were buckling into Rumple car, and the engine started to hum as they finally drove towards the party.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Granny’s diner was the sole bright spot on the mostly abandoned roadway when the couple arrived. Music and shouting could be perceived from the place as far as a block away. Rumple could’ve sworn he’d go deaf from the sounds he heard when he first opened the glass door. Not only that, but just a glance of how packed the restaurant was left Rumple unable to do anything other than grimace. He was quite certain at this point that he’d be rubbing elbows with half the population of Storybrooke by the time the evening was over.

 

Little attention was drawn towards the couple when they entered. Miles’ presence earned a holler or two from the closer side of the bar, where a few of Miles’ friendlier companions were situated, but that was it. Their cries were responded to with an a pleasant acknowledging nod from Miles as well as a promise to be over in a second. For now, it seemed like he just wanted to catch his breath before engaging himself in the festivities. Virtually all of the booths, chairs, table, and wall space were taken up, so as they got acquainted with the party, the couple stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, their arms pressed against one another’s.

 

“About time you two showed up,” a voice greeted them. The couple looked up only to see Ruby flashing a smile at them, drinks in each hand instinctively dropped off to their recipients.

 

“Pre-party resting got a bit out of hand,” Miles excused with a smile.

 

“You two are such old men!”

 

“Now be nice, Ruby,” Miles warned. “Otherwise, we may not tip.” Ruby didn’t take it too seriously, for Miles’ eyes called his own bluff.

 

“Whatever! Better late than never, I suppose,” she teased. “Good to see you guys,” she added earnestly and excitedly. It didn’t escape Rumple’s attention how Ruby’s eyes brightening and shifting just a bit more in his direction as she spoke. “Just so you know, first drink of the night is on the house!”

 

“Taking you up on that one, love,” Miles hollered. From behind the couple, the two could hear Miles’ friends beckoning to him. The cursed pirate turned to Rumple. “It okay with you if I go catch up with the guys?”

 

“Go ahead,” Rumple dismissed, rolling his eyes as a smile trickled its way onto his face. “I won’t miss you anyway.” Miles snorted and gave his lover’s hand a gentle squeeze before making his way over to the other side of the bar.

 

Now alone, Rumple grimaced. His husband was already lost in the sea of his fellow partygoers, and if the wizrd’s recent experiences had taught him anything, he knew all-too well what was coming.

 

_Just what I don’t want: Another conversation with the far-too nosy Miss Lucas._

 

Before Ruby could even ask how he was doing, Rumple fled in the direction of the bathrooms. He stopped at what he felt was a safe distance and looked back. He could make out her shadow, heading in his direction. Rumple started to seriously weigh his options to further flee when suddenly, just as quickly as the shadow had come forward, it stopped in its tracks by the sound of a familiar voice’s scolding.

 

“Ruby,” Granny called out. “We need drinks over on that side of the bar, stat!” The shadow remained in place for a second, as if debating whether or not to follow orders and pursue the blond, but it decided against it. Rumple had his own ideas for the reasons behind her choice, and he was quite sure that they were correct, but for now, he decided to just take the advantages he was given and run with them.

 

And for a while, that was the end of that.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

By some miracle, Rumple managed to find not only a seat, but an entire table of his own. After nearly an hour of scuffling his way around the room, trying in vein to find a comfortable place to situate himself until the night was over, a family sitting in the middle of the party got up with the full intention of going home, and Rumple immediately capitalized on the spot. His feet were once again killing him, and he was delighted to see no one else attempt to approach him. A glass of champagne sat on the table in front of him, acting as his only companion, and every so often, he’d take a sip of it. He glanced over at Miles, leaning on the bar counter beside Dr. Whale and Gregory Holt, both of whom were fortunate enough to have chairs of their own. They three were laughing over drinks, and Miles was too distracted, and more likely, unable to notice his husband sitting alone behind the thick crowd of people. He knew that if Miles saw him alone like this, the man would already be by his side, only too glad to give up one of his more social nights to give his husband some company. Rumple steadfastly decided to make himself small, and to occupy himself quickly as to prevent such an occurrence from happening. Not wanting the heat of his stare to draw Miles’ attention to him, Rumple allowed his eyes to further gander around the crowded diner so he could seek out the various goings on.

 

Not far from Miles and his group, Emma Swan and her roommate were chatting, small drinks nestling on the countertop beside them, and a familiar young boy joined them soon after. Henry, who was formerly sitting in a booth next to Regina, had apparently convinced his mother that he could go over to the two, no doubt more for purposes involving the schoolteacher than his birth mother. Mary Margaret caught onto this early enough, and wishing to give the mother and son time alone, walked off after what Rumple could interpret as an excuse about going to the lady’s room judging by her direction. Rumple saw the opportunity to go over and talk to the two of them, but after a moment’s debate, decided against it. He was frankly tired, and didn’t want to risk losing his chair and table over a conversation that, in all likelihood considering who was nearby, would not end up being fruitful. Staring at the two was also quickly decided to be a poor choice as well. Regina was sitting alone, and even more than not losing his seat, Rumple didn’t desire instigating a conversation with the Evil Queen. Instead, his eyes followed Mary Margaret’s moving form. The schoolteacher was making her way to the bathroom while passing David and Kathryn Nolan. Just as she and the veterinarian were parallel, the young woman stretched her arm across to David’s and gave his jacket-adorned arm a gentle caress with her finger. The cursed prince met her eyes, and the adulterous couple shared some far-from-wholesome flirtatious looks.

 

_If only the virtuous Snow White and Prince Charming could see themselves now._

 

Rumple smirked at the scene before him for a moment, but as Mary Margaret disappeared behind a partition, the blond thought more on the implications of the couple’s adulterous relationship. Robert Gold knew Mary Margaret, not particularly well, but like Rumple, Robert was able to understand how people worked. If he were asked a year ago whether or not the schoolteacher would ever play a part in an affair with a married man, he would’ve laughed at the mere notion of it. And even though Robert never knew David Nolan. Rumple was certain the man would never turn on his own wife. If the glimmer in David’s eyes when Mary Margaret touched him was anything to go by, he would’ve been sadly mistaken.

 

Could Rumplestiltskin have seen something like that happen to the kingdom’s most beloved prince and princess? Much to his surprise, he found the answer to be yes. The two had always placed more importance on their relationship than the social constructs of their land. Charming, at one point, left his fiancé to pursue Snow White, and the heroine herself had risked her life despite her royal title time and time again for the safety of her lover.

 

So how could such discrepancies be accounted for?

 

Only one explanation could be reached.

 

_The curse seems to be weakening further._

Rumple hadn’t paid the alterations in Storybrooke much mind in a while. He noticed small deviations at first, but as he readjusted to his old memories, he was content letting the distinctions fall into the abyss of his memories. After all, he only really talked to Miles, and the changes in his behavior, while undeniably present, were minute. Now, in now small part thanks to being trapped with all of the residents in the same room under such circumstances, the differences were growing clearer and clearer to see, and they existed far beyond the confines of the family destined to take down the Evil Queen. Rumple had to only turn his head around the diner to see instances of the changes. Archie was in the middle of the restaurant, asking for his seat back from Mr. Dove, who had taken it while he was off getting a refill on his champagne mere minutes ago. Mr. Dove, who stood at twice the psychologist’s size, eyed him for a moment, but at the man’s perseverance, backed down. On the other side of the diner, also not far from where Miles was drinking with his friends, he saw Leroy, who was occasionally losing focus in favor of staring at the nuns. One of them, a young woman with short reddish hair, gently smiled at him when the eyes of her companions were not on her.

 

Such occurrences were all around Rumple, and finally, the wizard was starting to take notice of them. His mind flooded with comparisons, and there was really no better time to do it. Everyone was too focused on their loved ones and their drinks to pay him any mind. It worked out being all the better for him, as far as the blond was concerned. Rumple felt he was growing far too used to the cursed life he was leading, and seeing living proof that the curse was starting to decay made for a sign of hope for the man that his ultimate mission would soon be able to finally start.

 

_It won’t be long now before I can abandon this meaningless life and get back to brass tacks._

 

Rumple was stirred from his thoughts by a rustling from his table. He looked up. Right before him was Ruby who gracelessly plopped down onto the chair across from his.

 

_But apparently not before I finish talking with the riff-raff._

 

Rumple immediately eyed the waitress in a way that was but a step away from a glare. Ruby, however, was fast with her response.

 

“I have been working non-stop for the past eight hours, I’m on the only break I’m getting until one, and seeing as how I work here, you can’t tell me to run off. I’m sitting here, like it or not.” She dramatically threw back her arms and arched into the chair. She gave a moan that was the perfect reflection of the one Miles gave Rumple mere hour earlier. “I needed that so much! I think my feet were becoming rocks!” Ruby’s exclamations were ignored by Rumple, who resumed his people-watching spree. Sure, the waitress had forced her way into his presence once more, but at least this time, he could conceivably control it. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more Rumple realized he never felt much of a need to perform his act around Ruby. Unless she was asking about Miles, which had happened more as of late, he never felt it necessary to lie when he was in her presence. After all, he hardly spoke to her, and when he did, all he wanted was for the girl to go away as soon as possible.

 

How he wished she shared in his sentiments.

 

“Enjoying the party,” the woman asked lively. He cringed internally, wondering for what felt like the umpteenth time this month why this girl was bothering him. Since she had sat down, Rumple had given the waitress every social cue that she was not welcome beside him. He turned to Ruby. She was once again sitting normally, her arms resting on the tabletop as she gazed at her companion intently. Fighting his enraged instincts for the moment, Rumple answered her question.

 

“A bit louder than I’m used to.”

 

“You don’t get out much, do you?”

 

“I’m a grown man. I don’t go to parties every weekend like some others,” he remarked pointedly. Ruby started giggling. Rumple narrowed his eyes once more. “What, may I ask, is so funny?”

 

“I’m imagining you and Miles at a house party, shaking it to ‘I Gotta Feeling.’” Rumple felt himself grow queasy at just the idea of it.

 

“I can promise you, Miss Lucas, with one hundred percent certainty that that will never happen.”

 

“Never say never,” she said smugly, her lips tugged into a smirk. Rumple knew what she was implying, of course he did. She was just as obsessed with her quest to get to know him as ever!

 

His patience finally lost, Rumple glared at her. “What are you aiming for? Why do you think, that despite everything you’ve been told throughout your entire life, I’m someone worth learning more about? Next you’ll be saying you want to befriend me!” He released a loud hmph. “What, are we to sit at this bar on Fridays and gossip about our boyfriends? Call each other and go shopping during the weekend? No, that will never be us.” Rumple smirked triumphantly.

 

_That should be enough to get her to give up._

 

“I know,” Ruby shrugged, immediately showing herself unfazed by the blond’s harsh words. “You’d never take me. You know what kind of damage I can do with that bottomless checkbook of yours. Or at least you **think** you do.” Just to make it all worse, the young woman winked.

 

An honest to goodness wink.

 

Rumple sat for a moment dumbstruck, his smirk dissipated into the void. By all accounts, he expected her to storm off, or at the very least say something crude in return.

 

_What, in Merlin’s name, **does** it take to rid myself of this silly girl?_

 

Nearly resigned, Rumple sighed and decided to take a more direct approach to solving his conundrum. “How do I get you to leave?”

 

“Tell me what I want to know,” the waitress answered simply.

 

_I swear, with that persistence, one day **she’ll** be the next Dark One._

 

“I’ll answer one question,” Rumple conceded, repeating his earlier sigh. Ruby released a triumphant smirk. She scratched her chin in thought.

 

“What was it about Miles that made you fall in love with him?”

 

“You’ve been taking a very big interest in my husband lately. Should I be alarmed?”

 

“No way,” Ruby denied. “I may not be Mother Theresa, but I’m no homewrecker. Not that Miles would let me do it anyways,” she further argued, adding another wink for good measure.

 

_Note to self: The first thing I’m doing when I get my magic back is eradicating winks from this Earth._

Rumple thought on the question for a moment, choosing his words carefully enough that they’d both quench the girl’s appetite for knowledge about his personal life and be vague enough that he wouldn’t be telling her after all.

 

“I like how honest he’s always been with me,” he finally answered.

 

Ruby raised an eyebrow. “Honesty? Please! Tons of people are honest with you in this town, unless you haven’t noticed. What made Miles so different?”

 

“Last time I checked, I was only to answer one question,” Rumple pointed out.

 

“Who knows for sure,” the waitress shrugged with a smirk, evidently all too aware of her victory over the pawnbroker. “But, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about lawyers from overhearing Granny’s crime dramas, it’s to get everything in writing.”

 

“I think we’re done here.” Rumple clicked his tongue. He began to get up, the desire to be away from the girl now of greater importance than the desire to rest his feet, but Ruby’s words stopped him before he could barely lift himself off the seat.

 

“You know, if you don’t tell me, I’m pretty sure Miles will, and he won’t leave out any of the details.” Ruby smirked and glanced at the cherry-red nail polish that sat upon her fingers. “I bet it gets really mushy too.”

 

Rumple narrowed his eyes. Here he was, once again stuck with an unfortunate predicament. On one hand, this conversation, like all the ones they shared, was getting too far out of his control for his liking, and by that, he meant any instance where he **wasn’t** in full control. On the other hand however, he both trusted Ruby on her word that she would seek out his husband’s and distrusted the idea that Miles wouldn’t tell her exactly what she wanted to hear. The pawnbroker lowered his body back onto the chair. He massaged the bridge of his nose.

 

_How does this girl keep getting to me?_

 

“Fine. He was honest with me, but there was also this kindness in him, and that’s probably what won me over. Miles is the type of man who you can tell just by looking at him has your best interests at heart. And to the best of his abilities, he’ll never hurt you. My heart, or rather, I, felt safe with him.”

 

“Do you still?”

 

“Yes.” To be fair, there was some truth to it. Rumple did in fact safe with Miles. When it came to safety both in a physical and emotional sense, Rumple wouldn’t put his company in better hands than those of Miles. It didn’t even surprise him that much to admit it. Everyone else in this town hated him, and if the election was anything to go by, the bulk of the neighborhood was just waiting for any excuse to get on his case. Miles was to sole exception to that rule. He openly loved and cared for him, and it was something Rumple learned not too long ago actually made a difference in how he got through his days. The only danger that the man presented was the ever-ticking time bomb that was the breaking curse, but it was nothing Miles could ever hope to have control of.

 

“He’s a good man, and I’m glad I have him,” Rumple added.

 

“He is,” Ruby admitted, “and I’m happy that you have him. But just know that he’s not the only person you can rely on here. The people in this town do care about each other, and if you try, maybe one day they’ll care about you too.”

 

“I doubt it.”

 

“Worked for me,” she shrugged. Rumple thought about the girl before him presently. Ruby annoyed the living hell out of him, and provided yet another set of eyes that seemed to be locked on Rumple’s. However, she had also never failed him once. When it came to the affairs of the pawnbroker, she just never seemed able to quit until the two reached an understanding, and something about that, despite how annoying it was, was a bit admirable. He still wanted nothing more than for her to go on her way, but perhaps, he dared to dream, she could be useful one of these days.

 

Before they could continue any further, a loud voice interrupted their conversation.

 

“Ruby,” Granny beckoned from behind a sea of customers. “Break’s over! Quit squawking and get back behind the counter!”

 

“Bummer,” Ruby quipped. “I was finally starting to get you to talk.”

 

Rumple smirked, overwhelmed with relief. “Yes, well I hoped you enjoyed it while it lasted. Don’t expect me to be as generous with my time again.”

 

“I think you know me well enough at this point to know that I find my ways.” Without giving the pawnbroker any time to make a comeback, Ruby stood up and walked away.

 

Rumple watched her as she left, still as perplexed as ever with her behavior. Who did she think she was infiltrating his life like that, and why did she care about him anyways? All he did was one good deed a few months ago, and it was a small one at that! It wasn’t like he saved a burning orphanage! Did she want something? Rumple didn’t think so. Ruby seemed to know him well enough to know that she was never getting into his wallet, if her teasing was anything to go by. He was certain he owned nothing of Ruby’s, her grandmother’s, or any of the people she seemed especially close to at the pawnshop. So what was the reason? Was it really just, as she confided in him previously, just to have a better understanding of him? Rumple wasn’t certain, but he knew he didn’t want to get close enough to the waitress to find out. He shuddered at the idea of making New Year’s resolutions, but he decided to make one to avoid the diner at all costs.

 

Having made peace with the situation, Rumple continued his previous endeavor of people watching, though with each passing moment, he grew both less attentive of his surroundings and more bored by the activity.

 

Thankfully, Ruby’s abandoned seat wasn’t left that way for much longer, and a tap on his shoulder gave Rumple someone new to focus his attention on.

 

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“Anyone sitting here, love,” Miles inquired, a dark drink with a strong aroma in his hand. Rumple shook his head, and the cursed pirate sat down. Rumple smirked at his husband’s choice of liquor as soon as he saw the drink touch the tabletop.

 

“Forgive me Miles, but isn’t champagne the drink most associated with New Years?”

 

“Yeah, but I’ve been thinking. I hate champagne. It smells nice, but it doesn’t taste that great. Too plain for my taste, at least. If I’m getting drunk, I might as well get drunk off of what I like. Ergo, the rum. Care for a glass, darling?”

 

“Thanks, but I’ll pass. You may not like champagne, but **I** do.”

 

“Suit yourself,” Miles shrugged.

 

“To another happy year,” Rumple proposed, his glass raised and outward.

 

“To another happy year,” Miles agreed, clinking his glass up against Rumple’s before sipping his rum. They sat together and talked for the next hour, only interrupted by the occasional New Year’s wishes by the odd passerby. The man’s constant presence, for once, didn’t seem to bother Rumple in the slightest, and actually ended up being preferred to sitting alone again in the middle of the ruckus. Upon further inspection of the rest of the diner’s rather loud company, he probably would’ve still chosen Miles as a companion for the evening. Any interesting people-watching that could’ve been done had been completed hours ago, and now it was too late to distinguish between the townspeople’s actual personalities and the results of a night of heavy drinking anymore. In contrast, Miles brought a much-needed dose of intelligence back into his evening.

 

It was nearing the next chime of the clock tower when the couple was completely derailed from their conversation by a loud shout.

 

“Five minutes to midnight,” Leroy called out. “Better find your kissing partners now,” he got out before bursting into a fit of laughter. Rumple rolled his eyes, and Miles chuckled.

 

“I’ll never understand just why everyone makes such a fuss out of this holiday,” he commented. “Are people so desperate to entertain themselves that they’re willing to celebrate the changing of one digit on a calendar?”

 

“The fresh feeling of a brand new year doesn’t fill your spirit with hope,” Rumple teased.

 

Miles rolled his eyes. “Spare me,” he moaned, topping off his drink. “Resolutions are the worst part of the bloody holiday. Everyone wastes tons of money on them, and no one ever ends up even keeping. I mean, if you want to change your life, that’s great and all, but why wait for a specific day to commit to it? You’re just setting yourself up for failure!”

 

“Preaching to the choir, my dear.”

 

“I know. You’re just the only one who listens. People have been going on and on about it all day, at work and here. I’m starting to remember why we never went out on New Years. I’m just tired of it already!”

  

“Not going to kiss me at midnight,” Rumple teased off-handedly. As Rumple saw it, it didn’t really matter what Miles said in response. If he wanted a kiss, the blond had become more than accustomed to them. If not, then hey, he got a night away from the man’s lips.

 

_Why not press my luck?_

 

“Nah,” Miles dismissed. “I feel like doing that would just be giving into those dumb superstitions, and it’s not like I can’t kiss you any other time. ’Sides,” the cursed pirate added, “I know you don’t like when I do it in public. I still feel kind of bad about when I did it on Christmas in front of the girls.”

 

“You do,” Rumple asked, thrown for a loop.

 

“Yeah,” Miles replied, as if it were obvious. He almost reached out his hand to touch Rumple’s, but caught himself and settled on gripping the table tighter. “You asked me to behave, and I didn’t, and I’m really sorry about it. All I can say there was that the drink got to me.” Rumple was nearly at a loss for words, but managed to form a singular question.

 

“It’s not now?”

 

“I decided I’d hold back tonight,” he stated in a matter-of-fact fashion. “Didn’t want to risk embarrassing you again.”

 

Rumple couldn’t help but pause. It was true. He hadn’t spent more that much time with Miles tonight, but the times that he did see the man, both while he was people-watching and as they sat at the same table, the instances where he saw his husband with a drink in his hand were few and far between. It wasn’t exactly something Miles did all too often. And how rare was it for someone to restrain themselves like that on his account of all people? Ordinarily, it was all but impossible, but when it came to Miles Samuel McAyesty-Gold, Rumple supposed he shouldn’t have been too surprised at all.

 

“Thank you,” the blond said simply, releasing a grateful smile. He could feel his hand instinctively twitch to reach his hand towards Miles’, and he allowed it.

 

“You’re welcome,” Miles replied, smiling right back at his partner.

 

“One minute,” cried Leroy from the far edge of the bar.” Everyone turned to the television where the rainbow-colored ball in Times Square was slowly starting descend, bringing light to the pitch-black pole as it fell. Rumple could hear people from the other side of the screen counting down excitedly, and at the thirty-second mark, the diner’s occupants started joining in.

 

All seemed well for an instance.

 

And then a sure sign of trouble started brewing.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Rumple saw it, or rather her. Ruby was looking straight at them. He doubted she was specifically seeking the two of them out, but with most of her usual company otherwise occupied, her eyes simply traveled until they came across a safe space.

 

Rumple stifled a groan. There’d be no getting out of kissing Miles **now** , that much was certain. Not after everything he told Ruby this evening.

 

“Three, two, one,” the patrons of the diner rhythmically called out. Rumple heart skipped a beat, and he grabbed Miles’ cheeks and pushed their lips together, a chorus of people not embracing their significant others screaming ‘Happy New Year’ at varying volumes behind them. It took Miles all of a second to bounce back from his shock and get into the groove of it, but once he did, the simple gesture exploded into something far more amazing. Their tongues were immediately on each other’s, and it gave off an electrifying feeling. Rumple knew he shouldn’t be enjoying this, but after months of mostly kissing Miles with little more effort than what would be required to kiss a wall, he gambled that he could afford to play around with the forced act.

 

_Makes it more convincing._

 

When they finally broke apart from each other, Miles looked at his husband, clearly confused about what had just occurred. Of course he would. Less than five minutes ago, the two settled on not kissing each other, and yet Rumple had thrown that out the window in one swift motion.

 

“A little good luck never hurt, right,” Rumple appealed, trying his best to not let his falsehood show. It was easier than usual.

 

Miles thumb brushed against his lover’s cheek as he smiled. “Not at all.” Rumple squeezed their lips and bodies together once more, feeling the air leave his lungs in a satisfying sigh. He felt the heat of Ruby’s stare fade away by the end of the first kiss, but he couldn’t quite stop himself from allowing this new one to linger on. When he once again remembered exactly what he was doing, he chastised himself.

 

_Rumple, stop it._

 

_You need to quit forgetting just who this man is._

 

_He’s the same worthless pirate that left Baelfire motherless._

 

_…_

 

_Well, really, that was Milah._

 

Rumple froze. Almost instinctively, he had just thought of the words that had just given his sworn enemy of three centuries salvation.

 

And he was not happy about it in the slightest.

 

Miles must’ve felt Rumple’s tenseness for he broke the kiss, and looked at his husband with a face full of worry.

 

“Everything okay, Rob?”

 

Rumple blinked. “Yeah,” he dismissed convincingly. “C-can you go get me a brandy, please?”

 

“Sure thing,” Miles warily returned before heading to the bar’s counter.

 

With Miles temporarily gone, and the rest of the room transfixed on celebrating the New Year with friends, family, and lovers alike, Rumple pushed his non-cane yielding hand through his hair as he tried to relax himself from the mess he was just put in, and the thoughts that were now consuming his mind like a dog with kibble. His breathing became heavy, and his eyes bulged. For the first time, the idea of showing Hook leniency, not Miles, had come to pass. When had he sunk to **that** point? When did **that** become a possibility? Rumple wanted to think harder on it, but his stress wasn’t letting him have the peace needed to truly mull it over. His head was now throbbing, and bile filled his mouth.

 

“Rob,” Miles cooed, approaching his husband with a brandy in hand. “What’s wrong? You look horrible.” His braced stub methodically massaged Rumple’s wrist.

 

“I-I think it’s all the excitement coupled with the drinks,” Rumple excused.

 

“Why don’t we head home for the night,” the cursed pirate suggested. “We’ll give a quick goodbye to everyone, and I’ll drive back.” Rumple desperately wanted to not be in a position where saying anything but ‘yes’ would be met with suspicion, but there he was.

 

“Y-yes.” Miles rubbed his braced stub against Rumple’s shoulder as he helped the blond stand. Rumple could definitely recall he and Miles saying goodbye to a few people before getting in the car, but the memories were frankly numb to him.

 

It was all that he could do to fight off his newfound nightmare, a nightmare that Rumple was quickly realizing was no longer one at all.

 

And that was the greatest horror of all.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: We’re finally getting plot things started up in here! Cue dance music! I know the last few chapters, this one included, were a bit on the filler-y side, but I promise, everything’s finally going to start coming together! How so? Well, you’ll just have to stay tuned to find out!
> 
> In regards to my cliffhanger from the last chapter, let’s just paraphrase what our dear Miles said earlier and say that as a writer, sometimes what you don’t say is just as important as what you do!
> 
> I hope you had fun with this chapter! If you did, then review! If you didn’t, also review! I like being challenged and improving through means of constructive criticism (Just make sure it IS constructive criticism (Read: You politely tell me what I did wrong and offer up suggestions on how to improve))! AND if you give me a well-thought out review, and end it with “Sneak peek please,” I will give you… well, just that: A sneak peek of the next chapter ABSOLUTELY FREE! What are you waiting for? To your keyboards! AWAY!!!!!
> 
> To get serious for a moment, I’ve been working on this fic for almost a year now. Everyday, I make strides on it in some capacity, and it’s been one of the few things in my life that I’ve actually been able to keep up with like that. I love this fic, and I intend to see it through to the end, and nothing makes that goal seem easier then when I feel like I have the support of my readers! Every review, no matter how wacky, how short, or how thought provoking, makes me take so much pride in both my work, and my ability to write. I one day want to go into writing or proofreading in some capacity, and I know that this project, despite how silly it may seem, will serve as the building blocks for this pursuit. Writing this fic has shown me the importance of perseverance in a way that I don’t think many other things could’ve. 
> 
> I’ve adored fanfiction since I first discovered it. I even wrote my college essay on the topic! So, please, whether we be readers or writers, let’s all try our best to give our best to this small, but constantly evolving art form. We’re intelligent beings, so let’s show that in everything we do on these sites, and build a better future for fanfiction together!
> 
> Inspirational speech: Completed!
> 
> :D
> 
> Hopefully, I’ll see you all next chapter, enjoy the next Once episode, and have a good day!!!!


	15. Some (Un) Enchanted Evening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time nor any of the show’s characters.
> 
> A/N: …How about that promise about once a month updates, huh?
> 
> Sorry doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel for making everyone wait this long, and I know you guys are most likely sick of my excuses, but I have my reasons this time!
> 
> So, here’s the story. I originally planned to have the next chapter focus on the events of “Fruit of the Poisonous Tree.” I had the entire climax planned out, and it was going to be pretty intense. However, after I watched the episode so I could better details the plot’s progression, I came to the conclusion that most of what I planned out didn’t really work into the show’s continuity. Also, unless the episode heavily features Rumple, or I can think of a way where Miles can get really involved in the plot, I want to try to avoid it. In this episode, this was sadly the case. Thankfully, the chapter wasn’t really plot relevant, but was supposed to act as more as a final catalyst for what you’re about to see in this chapter. I think it still works, and I hope you all do too!
> 
> I had a recap of my thoughts on the show planned, but at it would have to encompass both 5B and the beginning of 6, and I have a LOT of thoughts on both subjects, I decided to skip them. Should you wish to discuss them, you can message them to me while telling me your thoughts about the chapter itself in the comments (WINK, WINK, NUDGE, NUDGE, SAY NO MORE).
> 
> For now, that’s all I have to say, so let’s jump into the chapter!!!!

**“Some (Un) Enchanted Evening”**

 

Rumple wanted out.

 

That was really all there was to it.

 

Things had gone too far, and he wanted out.

 

**_How_ ** _had things gotten to this state, to the point where I spoke of mercy for **him** of all people?_

 

That and questions not too far off from it were inquiries the blond found himself asking more and more with each passing day, days that ranged between feeling like seconds and years with every moment that he was both with and away from Miles. The lump in his gut was just like when he first took up this charade, but at the same time, the exact reasons and feelings behind it were completely different. When he had first touched Miles after retrieving his memories, Rumple felt disgust, barely held-in repulsion from the sensation of their bodies interacting. It was like his mind was going blurry. Now though, ever since the party at Granny’s, when Miles pulled him in for a hug or a cuddle, that same blurriness came back, but now what was once cause by repugnance was now a symptom of disbelief of how this particular tide had turned.

 

What bothered Rumple the most was how slowly these changes came about.

 

First, it was just about getting through the day without giving into the urge to gag at every gesture of affection. Then, it was a realization that he could put up with Miles on a mental level. That was difficult, but by separating Miles from the cursed pirate’s identity, he was able to do just that rather easily. Next, it was a more vested interest in their physical relationship. Dealing with Miles kisses following the election, was nothing short of impossible, and frankly, was something he was still dealing with. There was something just…remarkable about the way the man kissed him, something that instinctively made Rumple drop his every defense. It was primal, and Rumple abhorred the lack of control he had when faced with them.

 

The powerless wizard’s brow furrowed.

 

He had become complacent. He had accepted too much.

 

Even still though, up until the night of the party, he had been able to keep the idea that he was kissing Hook somewhere in his mind. It wasn’t always the focal point, **especially** following the new stream of kisses, but it was still present, and it was always enough to keep Rumple, in his mind, anyways, sane.

 

Something had sparked in Rumple on that fateful New Year’s Eve. Was it the midnight kiss? He didn’t think so. The kiss, for once, was nothing too out of the ordinary, at least in comparison to what he’d been experiencing over the past few weeks. No, it couldn’t have been that. But that was where this most recent bout of weirdness started. Not long after is when the trouble began; that’s when he started taking the blame off of Hook.

 

Another horrifying thought occurred to him.

 

Robert and Miles Gold have been kissing for nearly thirty years. Miles kissed well, and the first two months after being released from the curse was a reflection of that for Rumple. The kisses that started after their fight though, they were something else entirely.

 

_What if…?_

 

_Ungh!_

 

Just the thought of it was as revolting as Miles’ morning breath after a sardine dinner! Obviously, he had been spending far too much time in the cursed pirate’s company, and he needed to leave.

 

…He needed a way out.

 

…But who was he **kidding**? He had kept up this ruse for well over two months! There **was** no out for the exact reason there wasn’t one two months ago, and now that he **and** Miles actually had the attention of the Savior, leaving would only be **more** noticeable!

 

Nothing had changed.

 

Here he was, still trapped like a rate in a cage.

 

Rumple snarled, massaging the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

 

_No. Don’t forget about what else I discovered on New Year’s Eve. This town is changing. It’s slow, but it’s happening nonetheless._

 

_I **will** get out of this nightmare; it’ll destroy me, but I’ll do it!_

 

**_Nothing_ ** _has changed._

As the thought came into existence, despite mirroring the lamented one he held before, there was a layer of comfort in it this time.

 

He was still Rumple, and Hook was the obstacle he’d face everyday until the curse could be lifted.

 

_That’s all he is._

 

Except that wasn’t quite true either.

 

As much as he hesitated to admit it to himself, he didn’t hate Miles, not anymore at least. The conclusion he reached some time ago had still stuck: Miles had never done a wrong thing in his eyes. Even moreso, Rumple found quite a bit to like about the man. When he wasn't enduring his husband's affective displays, could actually enjoy a conversation the two shared. Miles made him feel secure in a town where hardly anyone wanted anything to do with him, and it was a nice feeling.

 

At the end of the day, while it took a long time, getting along with the fisherman came down to one amazingly simple fact, that once realized, made it easy to find good in him: Miles wasn’t Hook.

 

…

 

_So **why** then is he changing my opinions on that blasted pirate?_

 

The blond stared at his book he was only pretending to read now. He was supposed to be enjoying an evening without his husband, but thoughts of the man only came back into the forefront like a boomerang.

 

_Once again, absolutely nothing is going as planned._

_Why am I even surprised?_

 

Tonight had been a reprieve from Miles. The cursed pirate had been invited out for a night of drinking with his friends, and Rumple was only too quick to insist that he go. After two weeks of almost uninterrupted “bonding,” an idea Rumple shuddered at with far more hesitation than to his liking, the pawnbroker needed a break.

 

Life in Storybrooke was quickly becoming his own personal gilded hell, and Rumple had taken to cursing Regina’s name more and more with each passing day as the weeks progressed. Regina, that witch; she was surely his devil! It was she who had done this curse onto him. He growled at himself for letting such a fate befall him in the first place. Regina, for all the blame Rumple cast upon her, had done **his** bidding. Now, it appeared, was his time to pay the price for his crimes: a pseudo-friendly relationship with the man he couldn’t stand more than anything. And now, affection slowly infiltrated his scheming, and everything was starting to get far too confusing for his taste.

 

_I just have to try to not think about him for a few hours. It’ll be just like that day I stayed late at the shop, and soon enough, these delusions of forgiveness will be washed right out of my hair._

 

As if on cue, a distant ringing became audible from the kitchen. Rumple took a deep breath and massaged the bridge of his nose as he went to silence the telephone in the opposite room.

 

“Hello,” he greeted, barely trying to mask his annoyance.

 

“Hey,” came a feminine voice on the other line. “Mr. Gold?”

 

_Great. Just what I needed._

 

“Speaking,” he said curtly.

 

“This is Ruby from Granny’s.” Rumple rolled his eyes. He’d known it was she from the moment her voice made contact with his receiver.

 

“Is everything alright,” he asked pointedly, more impatient with every moment he was denied his freedom.

 

“Not really.” Rumple, inexplicitly startled, stood up straighter, and held both the phone close to him, his cane pressed firmly onto the wooden floor. “Miles is fine,” she assured quickly, “but he’s had a lot to drink. He’s not really looking too good right now, and the rest of his crew isn’t looking much better. I’m calling all their families too. Can you come pick him up?”

 

Rumple sighed. “Yes. I’ll be there soon.”

 

Ruby barely got out a ‘thanks’ before Rumple hung up the phone. He groaned loudly. Was he not entitled to **one** evening away from his husband without the two of them being forced back together by the malevolent forces of fate?

 

He growled and made a start for his car. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, but it was horrible when it did. Miles had never been a tidy drunk, even less so than how most people were. No, Miles, while not harmfully so, was loud and unruly. At the end of the day, taming that particular beast was nothing short of a challenge, one both Rumple and Robert found less appealing than mowing every blade of grass in Camelot in the middle of July.

 

**Crack!**

 

Rumple stopped at the door. What made everything worse, in addition to this already horrible evening, was the pouring rain coming from outside with flashes of thunder and lightning striking at random. It had started about a half hour ago, and at the time, Rumple thanked his few lucky stars that he could hold the storm out within the confines of his home. The weather was revolting, and Rumple grimaced at the idea of facing it. However, despite his deepest wishes, Miles wasn’t going to get home by himself.

 

He made it to the car as fast as he could, nearly falling into a mud puddle during the trip. His shoes were already ruined by the time he reached the inside of the vehicle.

 

_At least my night can only improve from here…_

 

The drive was dark. Not one other car was on the road, and Rumple’s headlights did little to combat the pitch-black evening when faced with the onslaught of rain. The blond turned off the static-y remains of the end of Storybrooke Radio’s broadcast day, and all that was left to give sound to his world was the pitter-pattering of the storm against the car’s surface and the low rumble of thunder in the distance.

 

Just then, not even two minutes after taking off from his house, Rumple came across a face he hardly expected to run into tonight.

 

Emma Swan.

 

He almost passed her. It was by a chance flash of lightning that her figure caught his attention. The crimson bouncing off her jacket had Rumple hitting the breaks far less naturally than he would’ve liked the action to appear as.

 

“Miss Swan,” he called out after lowering his window a crack as he gently let the car crawl to a stop. Emma had immediately given the car her attention, shielded her eyes from the headlights as she made her way over to the window.

 

“Gold?”

 

Rumple nodded and unlocked his doors. “Allow me to give you a ride. No need for our Sheriff to be sick in bed from this weather.” The young woman, despite a still muddled relationship with the pawnbroker, didn’t even hesitate in the face of what would surely be a dark, long walk home, and within seconds was safely buckled into the passenger seat, warming herself as best as she could. Rumple turned up the heat, giving Emma a few moments to get herself together before resuming the drive.

 

“Thanks,” she said stiffly, but not enough for it to overpower her gratitude. “Why are you out?”

 

“I need to pick Miles up from Granny’s. He got himself a little too drunk to make the trip home himself.” Emma accepted the answer, nodding. Rumple himself didn’t feel the need to ask why Emma was out in this downpour. They were, after all, only a few blocks from the Mills’ house when they ran into each other.

 

Rumple, while playing witness to a lot of Emma’s attempted sabotage of Regina, was able to fill in the remaining blanks second-hand from Miles after the fact. The cursed pirate and Emma were only growing closer, after all.

 

“How come you didn’t take that little bug of yours?” Emma remained quiet. “Didn’t want to risk getting caught,” the pawnbroker answered for her.

 

The passenger stared at him blankly, her eyes just on the barrier of what would be considered a glare. “I’m starting to think the rain was the better option.”

 

“You’ll find your way around Regina. You always seem to, though, if I may state again, you would do better to accept my help. You’d be surprised at what keeping the right companions could do for your cause.”

 

“And I’ll state again, no thanks,” Emma retorted. “Right now, I’ve **got** the right companions.”

 

Rumple rolled his eyes. He wasn’t the only one to beg to differ with the blonde’s statement. Miles had confided in him that he didn’t trust Sidney, and it was something that he and Emma had recently made a habit of disputing over. Miles reasoned that someone as obviously infatuated with the mayor as the reporter was wouldn’t make such a devious turn on her so easily. Frankly, Rumple agreed. He and Miles talked about it often, one of their more common dinner discussions.

 

Emma’s disputes with the cursed pirate never got that bad though. Rumple had taken the appropriate precautions, goading Miles into not getting too upset over the ordeal by telling him that regardless of what Sidney ends up being, either ally or traitor, his responsibility as her friend was just to be there for Emma no matter what. He remembered how impressed Miles was with his suggestion. Even as he drove on towards Granny’s, he could still look back on the mental image of his husband’s sweet smile as he thanked his lover for the advice.

 

_It was definitely worth it for that._

 

Rumple shook his head, narrowing his eyes to focus more on the road.

 

“You alright over there,” Emma asked.

 

“Just peachy,” Rumple snipped, his eyes not wavering from the wet pavement.

 

“You know I can tell when you’re lying, right?” Rumple grunted. “Just asking,” Emma shrugged.

 

“Well don’t.” That pawnbroker was tempted to snarl. Once again tonight, he had started out in control but had lost it, and now lost his veil of privacy to hide behind.

 

“Does it have to do with Miles?”

 

“That’s none of your concern.”

 

“When it involves my friend, it is,” Emma argued.

 

“I,” Rumple hesitated, forming a lie, “I just hate when he gets like this.”

 

“Gets drunk?”

 

“Yes,” he answered slowly, his confidence waning as Emma continued to expose him.

 

“Does he drink all that often?”

 

“Not really, but…”

 

“But?”

 

The driver sighed. “Let’s just say you’ll find out soon enough what I mean.” Rumple tightened his lip, and Emma, as disgruntled as she was as conveyed through an audible sigh, seemed to get the message. Building up his inevitability wasn't his cleverest idea, but getting her to be quiet, if for only a moment, was worth it.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

The pair found that heart of Storybrooke was just as barren as any other road they had taken over the course of the evening as they neared their final destinations, the only difference being the added supply of streetlights made the roads that much easier to navigate as Main Street drew closer.

 

Rumple looked to the right of the streets. Emma’s loft was coming up soon, and for once, he couldn’t wait to be rid of her. At first, Emma’s added presence seemed to be as good of a thing as it ever was. If Rumple wanted information as well as updates about how close the curse was to breaking, well there was hardly a better source than the Savior herself. As they drove however, and memories of taking care of an intoxicated Miles came flooding into his head, the very idea that Emma might see anything of that ilk made the cursed imp queasy to say the least. It wasn’t the first time she saw them act romantic. Even setting their Christmas kiss aside, Emma wasn’t likely to forget how much the couple “cared” for each other after so many one-on-one conversations with both of them about the subject of their relationship, especially not if Miles continued getting so chummy with her.

 

He admitted his foolishness in spouting out what he did earlier in the car ride, if only to himself, but with their drive nearly complete, there was nothing Rumple could do now but hope that with her home in sight, Emma would be willing to abandon the scene before becoming a witness to whatever was to come when he walked into that restaurant. Granny’s was close to the loft, but with the right timing in his driving, perhaps he could make the apartment a more appealing destination.

 

Slowly, as the street where Emma’s dwelling resided came into view, Rumple began to look for an open spot. The only spot available, as fate would have it, was one right outside of Granny’s, but the loft was still only across the street, and the rain only made the outdoor world look more disgusting. The two sat in the car for a second, taking in the weather that waited on the other side of the car’s door.

 

“Sorry I can’t get you any closer to your loft,” Rumple apologized, “but I hope you have a good evening.”

 

“Thanks, but I’m actually going to go inside too,” Emma insisted. “I want to check on Miles and make sure Ruby’s alright. I know from plenty of cases, dealing with drunks is not the best way to spend a night.”

 

Rumple’s eyes burned up and he had to bite his tongue in order to hide the glower that was begging to come out. It was at that point that the imp’s contempt for his earlier words had turned into flat-out regret. He knew it: he had built up his torture too well, and now, despite her apparent interest in the state of the younger Lucas, Emma wanted to see it with her own eyes. Rumple said nothing, but nodded as his fingers curled around the steering wheel ever so slightly tighter.

 

“How charitable,” Rumple said as he prepared to park, a Stepford-like grin the only thing holding back his true emotions from bubbling to the surface.

 

The warlock bit his tongue as he also realized the effects that the young woman would have on his mission of collecting Miles as a whole. His best hope had originally been for a quick in-and-out. Rumple could be his no-nonsense self and drag his husband home from the bar, never mind any unintentional attitude he gave off along the way. At this hour, he would’ve most likely only had to deal with the attention of a few drunks and probably Ruby. If anything, perhaps that style of handling Miles would be the very thing he needed to get Ruby off of his back by showing her a harsh, unforgiving man in the face of stress, even at Miles. Unfortunately, Emma complicated things. She was not only sober, but now quickly growing to be one of Miles’ closest friends. If Rumple gave her even the tiniest points to critique, he’d certainly be under even more suspicion by her, something he was decidedly against when it was the other way around.

 

_Rrgh._

 

He and Emma escaped from the car as quickly as they could before getting under the diner’s small canopy. As the pair entered the restaurant, Miles immediately came into view. The diner was nearly abandoned, save for the two new visitors, Miles, and Ruby, who was currently eying the cursed pirate’s glass, ready to take it away the second its all-encompassing grip was abandoned. As the bell above the diner’s doorway dinged, Rumple and the crimson-clad sheriff were immediately spotted.

 

“Rob,” Miles cheered. His eyes lit up when he saw Emma, “and Swan,” he jubilantly added. “You came to join me!”

 

Rumple hid a wince as he dragged himself towards his husband.

 

_Let’s just get this over with._

 

Miles’ arm looped around Rumple’s waist, and the younger man pulled him close before letting his head relax against his lover’s upper torso.

 

_So it begins._

 

Rumple couldn’t stop the discomfort from settling on his face. Emma smirked.

 

_Yeah. Enjoy the show while it lasts, Miss Swan. When you finally break this curse, I’ll revel in seeing that smirk turn into a shudder!_

 

“I came to take you home,” Rumple stated, placing a firm hand on the man’s shoulder to try and make some distance between the two. Thankfully, the bar was all but deserted at this hour, Miles’ friends apparently already taken away by their respective caretakers.

 

Miles, drunk or not, was having none of it, and wrapped his arm around his husband even tighter. The couple’s heads nearly bumped into one another from the impact. Emma’s guard over her emerging smile was starting to falter, her smirk loosening up. Rumple’s blush had set in tenfold. “Nah, come stay,” he slurred. “Have a-“ he started as he raised his glass. He looked into it and frowned at the emptiness that had previously been filled with some of Granny’s strongest booze. “Just come sit. I’ll get you some whiskey. You’d like that, right?”

 

“I think you’ve drank enough for the both of us, maybe even all of Storybrooke,” he replied, a denying tone littering his voice.

 

“No way,” the inebriated man hollered. “I’m just getting started!” Rumple rolled his eyes, looking over at a fairly nervous Ruby, who had been awkwardly standing behind the counter from the moment Rumple and Emma came in until now.

 

_So this is what the young Miss Lucas has had to deal with all night…_

 

_My sympathies._

 

“Miles, how many beers have you had,” Rumple instead asked. He sat down at the bar on the stool next to his husband’s. It was about as far as the blond could hope to get away from the man given the current circumstances.

 

“Two,” the cursed pirate responded innocently.

 

Rumple stared him down.

 

“Three,” he answered again, holding out the last vowel.

 

The stare refused to waver.

 

“Six,” Miles finally admitted. He barely got his confession out before he released a loud ‘Hic.’

 

“I assumed as much.”

 

“Show off.”

 

“Not a show off, just bright.”

 

“So smart,” Miles clamored, his mouth only about two feet from Rumple’s now tortured ear. Before Rumple could even make a move to stop him, the cursed pirate had pulled his other arm around Rumple tightly and pulled him in for a hug. The image was rather amusing, or Rumple assumed it would’ve been if the unfortunate fool at the end of the embrace were anyone else. “I loooooove you, Robby Poo,” he hollered.

 

If Rumple’s voice could’ve gotten any more colorful, it would have at that very moment. Emma and Ruby certainly seemed to be having fun. At this point, the two women lost their composures completely, doubled over in their laughter so much so that the bar’s counter served as the only thing separating them from the floor.

 

_We have to get out of here **now** , lest I be “treated” to any more of this._

 

“Now come Miles, we’re going home,” Rumple commanded, starving off his reddened cheeks as he firmly made space between them. He placed a hand on his husband’s shoulder, and pulled the limb relentlessly until the man obliged with his demands. He kept the hand on Miles’ shoulder, steadying him as the pair slowly made their way outside the diner’s door. Miles, succumbing even moreso to his inebriation, started mulling over all manner of alcohol-induced conversation topics, topics that Rumple, who was being watched like a hawk by the ladies behind him, had the displeasure of being forced to listen and respond to.

 

“Yes Miles, I’ll put out the patio furniture right away,” Rumple said right before he began the journey back to his house.

 

_In the dead of winter._

 

What made the already agonizingly slow trip outside of the eatery even longer was the fact that halfway to the door, Miles started getting dizzy, leading him to lean about half of his weight on the clearly smaller man. When the pair finally squeezed through the passageway, Rumple sighed in relief. They were nearly home free, his car parked directly in front of them.

 

Unfortunately, it seemed that Mother Nature didn’t take too kindly to such a turnout.

 

Only two or so steps out the door, Miles, still holding onto his husband, began to stumble, a slippery mud puddle at his feet the obvious culprit. Their shaky footing threatened to bring them crashing downwards to the dampened concrete. The start of the fall already had Rumple’s hair flying backwards, and he closed his eyes and clung to Miles, ready for the all-too inevitable crash. However, just as all hope seemed lost, Emma grabbed her drunken friend by his other arm and brought them back into balance. Rumple, as he assisted his savior, couldn’t fully release the other man from his grip for a few moments. When he finally caught up with himself, he pulled back quickly, just enough that it didn’t feel as awkward.

 

Rumple sighed in relief as he turned to meet his savior. “Thank you,” he spoke. He meant it too. He did not know what state he would’ve been in had that fall came into fruition, and given the state of the night so far, the blond wouldn’t have been surprised if that had been the thing to bring him over the edge.

 

“Want some help getting him settled,” Emma asked.

 

“I wouldn’t oppose it,” Rumple admitted.

 

Now with Emma and Rumple holding either side of Miles, the remainder of the trip to the car was made much smoother. Working together, they had the inebriated man buckled up in the back seat in mere moments.

 

Rumple was ready to see Emma gone, but her approach to the vehicle’s passenger seat had the pawnbroker doing a double take. “Come on,” Emma encouraged. “If you can’t even get him to your car, you’re going to need some help getting him up a flight of stairs,” she explained. Rumple nodded. With no other sober person at his side, the activity would’ve taken just he and Miles at least an hour. Honestly, tonight had gone on long enough for his taste as it already was. The two entered the car, and after entertaining Miles musing over the smell of water bottles, headed onto the road once more.

 

Rumple’s eyes, despite the man’s every attempt to keep them darted on the road, glanced towards Emma every time Miles made so much as a comment. To his frustration, every time he looked at her, she looked like she was about a hair away from giggling her heart out again. He couldn’t exactly blame her. Had it been anyone else, Rumple would’ve taken just as much pleasure in watching the poor sap fumble around with the cursed pirate in tow as the fool yelled out terms of endearment towards his partner.

 

Alas though, that poor sap was him, and he had to endure every sickeningly sweet moment of his reluctant courtship, all the while without stepping a toe out of line.

 

Rumple was interrupted from his melancholy by a new sound that permeated the air. A look at Emma, who had her face turned to the car’s backseat, confirmed what was already quite obvious.

 

Miles was asleep.

 

_Fuck._

 

They had just passed by the clock tower, not even two miles from Granny’s when Miles’ snores became apparent to those in the front of the vehicle. Getting Miles settled now was only going to be that much harder, he knew that much from experience. The cursed pirate was difficult to wake up after he had fallen asleep, and it was all but impossible to get him to his bed when he wasn’t awake, meaning that the chances of Emma getting to witness more of this embarrassing behavior grew rapidly.

 

From the passenger seat, Rumple could make out the very same woman engaging in a good-natured snort over the new circumstances. The imp held back a sigh.

 

“What has you so amused,” he asked, as if he didn’t already know.

 

“He’s cute when he’s like that.” She gestured towards the back of the car.

 

“You want him,” Rumple jested. “He’s yours.”

 

_Please._

 

“Nah. He’s cute with you, Robby-poo.” Emma started chuckling. It was the most Rumple had ever seen of her smile.

 

Oh, how he wished never to see it again.

 

_Of course…_

 

_I swear to Merlin, if it weren’t for Ruby, I’d exonerate her of her favor just so she’d never bring it up again._

_I can always extort another child away again._

 

Rumple rolled his eyes.

 

“Something got you?”

 

“Nothing at all,” Rumple muttered.

 

“He wasn't that bad.”

 

“Really,” Rumple inquired sarcastically. “Tell me, Miss Swan, do you think you're going to forget what you've seen tonight anytime soon?” Emma's silence told him all he needed to know. “I didn't think so. Now how do you think those little scenes, as infrequent as they are, affect how others see me?”

 

“As a human?” Emma had an eyebrow raised at him, and a hand at her hip.

 

“I’m a businessman, Emma,” Rumple stated, “and the worst thing I could do for business is let my clients see me being dolled up by someone, even if that someone is my own husband.”

 

“Your husband’s affectionate with you. Not really that bad of a thing, either as a human **or** a businessman.”

 

“It’s not,” Rumple said hesitantly, struggling with the words to say. After all, that very affection was part of his low profile. Why would Robert ever be **this** upset about that?

 

Then a memory hit him like the lightning bolts from the previous stormy sky.

 

“It’s just that,” Rumple scrambled, “Miles promised me he wouldn’t do this anymore. Not after Christmas,” he finished, his words growing more and more confident as he spoke. It was brilliant! Even better than brilliant, because it had a layer of truth to it, which prevented that pesky lie detector from going off in Emma’s head. Rumple hadn’t paid all that much mind to the declaration after it had first been made, obviously placing his concerns in the far more pressing matters, and in truth, it wasn’t a promise at all, just an announced intention to be more careful, but the man wasn’t about to deny a tool when it was quickly becoming of use.

 

_Good job, Miles._

“What do you plan on doing to him then?”

 

“Am I not entitled to my anger?”

 

“I didn’t say that, but think of it this way: It's true: he hurt you. At the end of the day though, don’t you think once he comes to and realizes what he did, he’s going to do everything he can to make up for it?”

 

Rumple pursed his lips. Of course, this whole excuse was a lie, but what **would** happen the next morning when reality caught up to his sober husband? The imp was quite sure he knew exactly what was in store. Miles would spend the day apologizing and spoiling him rotten. Every bit of it would all sincere too. Miles was the expressive sort, and carried that quality in virtually every aspect of his life.”

 

“He will,” Rumple admitted.

 

“And, not to remind you of anything in particular, but doesn't he put up with a fair amount of...problems from you on a regular basis?” As Emma posed her inquiry, she quirked her eyebrow in a way that suggested there was only one real way to answer the question.

 

Rumple eyed her with an expression that was a mere step away from a glare before returning his sights to the road, an airy huff the only remnant of the gesture. “...Yes,” he replied darkly.

 

“Maybe it wouldn't hurt to cut him a bit of slack?” From the passenger seat, Emma shrugged.

 

Rumple sighed. “I’m sure you’re right,” he relented.

 

The rest of the car ride passed in silence among the car’s passengers, the humming of the engine the only noise in the air. Upon reaching the Gold home, the pair stumbled upon the realization that getting Miles upstairs was to be quite a challenge. Emma and Rumple debated on whether or not it would be easier to keep the drunk asleep or wake him up, some past experiences from Robert convinced the two that waking the man would make their trek far less burdensome.

 

Miles woke with a groan. Equal parts gentility and firmness allowed his companions to persuade him up the stairs and into the master bedroom. Rumple and Emma were content enough to leave the man sitting on the bed, aware that Rumple would ready him for bed as soon as the sheriff travel arrangements were settled.

 

Before Emma had so much as a chance to think on how to get home, Rumple had already taken the liberty of calling as well as paying for a cab. When the young woman questioned him about it, Rumple simply shrugged his shoulders and told her “it’s what Miles would have done.”

 

“Thanks,” Emma said. The two shared an awkward silence for a few moments until conventional etiquette compelled Emma to speak again. “Well, I’m sure you have to go take care of Miles, so I’ll just be heading out. The cab should be outside any minute, right?”

 

The wince buried in Rumple’s throat was but a hair away from coming out. “Yes. Of course. Well, thank you once more for helping me with him.”

 

“No problem,” she returned stiffly. “Thanks again for the rides.” Emma turned for the door, and just as she reached the exit, she made one more motion towards Rumple. “Go easy on Miles, okay” she requested as Rumple met her eye. “He’s good, and he cares about you.”

 

Rumple sighed. “You have nothing to worry about,” he assured her, a false, shy smile plastered onto his face. Emma released a sigh of relief and finally exited the Gold house for the night, an echoing thud the last remnant of her presence there from the inside.

 

In the wake of the sheriff’s absence, Rumple looked pensively at the stairs just up the all-too short-feeling flight was Miles, still drunk beyond belief and doing Merlin knew what. Slowly, Rumple took to the steps, his cane and feet producing a soft rhythm as he climbed to the top. Reaching their bedroom didn’t take much longer and before he knew it, the blond palm pushed against the turned doorknob, pressing it open and allowing him to enter the room.

 

_He looked exhausted when we set him on the bed._

_With a little bit of luck, perhaps he’ll be asleep._

 

Miles was found immediately to Rumple’s left. He was standing up, scrutinizing the cologne bottles, wallets, and other wares that sat upon their stout dresser as if he were a detective.

 

_No! Why would he be asleep? That would actually be easy!_

 

“Someone moved things,” the inebriate mused suspiciously. He examined a bottle of cologne, as if looking for clues, letting out the occasional hum when the mood struck his drunken mind.

 

“Miles,” Rumple beckoned, “why don’t you get some rest?”

 

“Naw,” his husband dismissed. “Let’s stay up! The night is young!” The man gasped. “Let’s watch a movie!”

 

Rumple sighed. This was taking forever!

 

An idea hit.

 

“I suppose that sounds fine, but why don’t we get you a bit more...comfortable first?” He touched Miles shoulders softly and winked. Rumple hated using seduction, all too aware of the consequences, but the longer this evening dragged on, the more unbearable it became, and all Rumple wanted now was for it to stop. “Sit down,” he purred into Miles’ ear as he gently led his partner to the chair closest to the bed. Miles nodded with a surly smile and ungraciously plopped onto a chair behind him.

 

_The easy part’s out of the way..._

 

Rumple winced, knowing what he’d have to do next. He gently maneuvered his husband’s limbs so that Mas was stretched out on the furniture. “P-please,” he implored, swallowing the stutter he released and placing a hand on Miles’ chest, “allow me.”

 

“Well, if you insist,” Miles slurred, cocking his eyebrows.

 

The blond decided to start on an easy note. First, he took off the brace clamped over Miles' left hand. The wound was badly scarred, as it always was and always would be. Both Rumple and Robert never found it too unsightly. In Robert's case, he had never seen Miles otherwise. For all intents and purposes, that was his normal state. With Rumple, perhaps because he so thoroughly enjoyed putting it there in the first place, never had the time to spare on gawking at its appearance or texture, even as he had to touch it, preferring to instead focus on the pain he had caused Hook when he first caused its existence.

 

The brace removed and placed onto Miles’ nightstand, the blond proceeded. Rumple blushed as he took off Miles’ shirt, his face only growing redder with every button undone. He didn’t understand why he even did so anymore. The soft hairs and fairly muscular build on Miles’ chest were nothing new, not even after he was released from the curse’s grasp; he had seen them countless times before, up close and personal. Had the party really driven him **this** mad? After removing the fisherman’s button-down shirt with relative ease, he started to go about replacing it. It wasn’t without hassle around the arms, but Rumple somehow managed to throw one of Miles’ favorite casual pajama shirts onto his body.

 

He next looked at his partner’s pants. Before he escaped from the curse, Robert always strived to make Miles as comfortable as possible after one of his drunken escapades. Rumple...didn’t exactly share the sentiment. Looking at the other man’s trousers, his face started to reflect the shade of a ripened tomato. The cursed wizard had spent countless years observing what lay beneath the two layers of cloth that currently cloaked his husband’s underside, but taking everything that had happened in the recent past into consideration, the idea of seeing those layers unfold before his eyes left him with feeling that were complicated to say the least. After a short debate, he decided it would be better just to keep them on. Miles wasn’t providing much help at the moment, and for his money, the further he stayed from the man’s crotch, the better. Whatever odd looks Miles gave him the next morning, he would just shake off.

 

Satisfied enough with his job, Rumple started to escort his husband through the final part of this elongated journey. “Come under the covers,” the blond beckoned. He tugged at Miles arm gently until the man begrudgingly followed. Upon getting settled beneath their blanket, Miles sighed contentedly.

 

“I love you, Rob.” He placed a quick but sloppy kiss squarely on Rumple’s lips, an action Rumple accepted with minimal anguish. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re the best?”

 

“Why do you think I keep you around?” Miles weakly chuckled, but said nothing. The room grew quiet, and Rumple turned out the light on his nightstand, darkening the room.

 

That should have been it.

 

It really should’ve been it.

 

But every time, every **damn** time Rumple closed his eyes, his ears would be filled with the echoes of voices that he just wished would go away.

 

_“Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to cut him a bit of slack?”_

 

_“Well, really, that was Milah.”_

 

_“Anyone ever tell you that you’re the best?”_

 

_“Well, really, that was Milah.”_

 

_“Well, really, that was Milah.”_

 

**_“Well, really, that was Milah.”_ **

****

_…_

 

_I need to get this out of my system, and fast._

_Maybe if I tell it to him, that’ll be enough to expel these thoughts from my mind so that I can finally get some sleep._

_I’ll just ask in vague terms. Last thing I need to do is get the pirate back to himself._

 

“Miles,” Rumple muttered. Beside him, the very man whom he had called groaned.

 

“Whup,” he replied, slowly coming to.

 

“Miles, are you still awake?”

 

“You know it baby,” he slurred loudly. Miles sloppily kissed his cheek. “You need me for any...situations,” he inquired seductively. Even right after the man asked the question, Rumple could start to hear snores take up arms against Miles’ drunken state.

 

_Good. I can ask my ridiculous question, and the bastard will never remember it._

 

“Have you...ever struggled with forgiveness?” Rumple waited patiently, but as a pregnant pause made itself just as home in their bedroom as the very couple resting in it ever were, he started to wonder about whether or not his husband had fallen asleep on him again. It was at that moment, however, that Miles was ready to speak.

 

“Yeah. Of course I have.” It was quieter than the man had been all night. Something about this topic must have deeply unsettled him. He had an inkling of an idea as to why, but wanted the answer first before jumping to conclusions.

 

“What about forgiving someone for something horrible, something that happened long ago, but even to this day, it still manages to get your blood boiling?”

 

Miles eyed him uncertainly. “Umm, speaking from experience there, love?”

 

“It’s merely a hypothetical,” Rumple stated. He wasn’t worried about Miles remembering this conversation tomorrow, though the change in tone was a surprise, that much was for sure. “I…I was watching a movie where this man ruined a woman’s business, and yet she was able to forgive him for it. I just wonder how someone does something like that.”

 

Miles clicked his tongue and looked up at the ceiling. There was a pause for a long time. Rumple listened for the return of snores, but heard none.

 

“I’ll never completely forgive the doctor that let Connor die,” Miles said calmly, almost as if he were still sober.

 

_I knew it._

 

Rumple signaled for him to continue with a simple nod.

 

“The thing is though, I don’t know if I can still hate him either. We were friends before. I think I told you that.”

 

“You did,” Rumple interjected.

 

“I’m the one who recommended him after all, despite knowing he was fresh out of school. With my brother’s reputation, I thought it could be good for the young man, bring him some renown. I even told Connor not to seek out a second opinion before he was treated, choosing to put my faith fully in him. Needless to say, I gave him a bite far too big to chew, and I lost a brother as penance for our over-ambitions. The man lost his license. Such punishment was only deserved, but I sometimes think about what happened to his life afterwards. Over a decade of schooling went down the drain, just like that. His friends and family, many of who were close to Connor and me, never looked at him the same way from what I heard. I surely never talked to him again following the incident. All from one poor diagnosis.” Rumple knew this to be true. The ex-doctor was often seen alone with his head low to the ground as eyes that equally hosted pity and judgment watched him.

 

Rumple took in the words, but said nothing at first. Of course, he knew of Miles’ dilemma. The ex-doctor, in addition to Miles, could never stand to look Robert in the eye either. It made things awkward since Robert was his landlord, and upon learning of his actions, Robert took satisfaction in significantly raising the price of his rent.

 

“So, you can’t forgive him.” It was more of a statement than a question.

 

“Believe it or not,” Miles answered unsurely after another pause, “I think I could.” Rumple raised an eyebrow, and Miles quelled his partner’s skepticism with his stub upon Rumple’s hand before he continued to speak. “Connor’s death did and continues to hurt me to this day. I’ll never entirely forgive him for it. But, a large part of me feels like, after all these years, to a degree, I finally could move past it with him. It took two to tango the dance of my brother’s demise, and I should’ve known better than to follow a rookie doctor without encouraging so much as a second opinion. His death hangs on my soul too.”

 

Rumple couldn’t stop himself from asking a question.

 

“If I may ask, dear, how? Doesn’t it still upset you? Aren’t you still angry?” Miles turned so he was on his side, facing Rumple.

 

“I thought about those very questions for a long time, love. For the past few years, I tried to force myself to stay venomous towards him, but to be honest, I just don’t harbor that hatred anymore. Not like I used to.” Miles unlocked his eyes from Rumple’s. “You didn’t know me back when he died, Rob. Before I met you, I used to hate this man with all of my being, and it consumed me. I stole his credit card and spent hundreds of dollars with it before throwing it in the harbor before I could get caught. I sent Leroy off into town with the nastiest rumors I could dream up. He took it all in stride, I’ll give him credit for that. I was determined to see this man burn for his crimes. But life changed. I’ve learned a lot since then. I found love that showed me how life doesn’t and rightly shouldn’t end unhappily. As time passed, my hatred for him just…faded. I now realize that the best I can do going into tomorrow is move forward. That’s what Connor would’ve wanted after all. I sometimes imagine him approaching me on the subject, and, while just a daydream, I do forgive him in it. At the end of the day, we both suffered and it’s time to put the past in the past where it belongs.”

 

Rumple was at a loss for words. It was really something else when he thought about what Miles had just told him. In its barest state, the conflict was far too reminiscent of his present one for it to be just a coincidence.

 

Before Rumple could speak, Miles’ voice spoke up once more.

 

“Thanks for picking me up love,” Miles spoke finally.

 

_I take it that he wants this conversation to end._

_Can’t say I blame him._

“You’re welcome,” the blond tiredly answered.

 

“You’re the greatest,” Miles said, allowing his every vowel to linger in the air.

 

_Alcohol mixed with plaque. Charming smell._

 

_Right up there with a freshly used toilet._

 

The cursed pirate released an obnoxiously loud yawn. “Miles,” Rumple groaned.

 

“Sorry, babe. I’ll take that as my cue to get some shuteye. G’night, Rob. I love you.”

 

A silent, elongated yawn escaped Rumple. “Good night,” he mirrored. “Love you too.” The wizard’s eyes shut, and for a moment, things seemed to be at peace.

 

Then he felt himself...shifting.

 

Rumple hesitantly opened his eyes once more only to see Miles pulling in closely. Two arms wrapped themselves around either side of the blond’s body, his ankles found themselves intertwined loosely in an identical fashion. The final act of intimacy to be imposed upon Rumple was felt when Miles’ stubble-filled chin lodged in the space between the blond’s own chin and Adam’s Apple, a pose that was in all likelihood far more comfortable for the pirate than for the man now wedged underneath his husband’s form. Rumple craned his neck so he could take a glance at their interlocked and rather compromising situation, and a soft groan escaped his lips.

 

He spent a solid minute fidgeting around, attempting to escape his tangled fate before finally stopping. At this point, the only way he’d be more trapped was if he was wading through quicksand. Despite enduring this very nonsense for nearly three months now, only now was the imp starting to wonder why he even bothered trying to get away, especially when it came to the matter of sleeping. Besides his immense difficulty sleeping without at least touching the man in some way, every attempt Rumple made to move away from Miles only ended up costing himself more of his already limited mobility, as his husband would just pull him in tighter. He didn’t even understand how that happened! Somehow though, with enough moving on Rumple’s part, the two would be so close together by the end of the night that the blond could swear they were merging into one singular being. For his money, they were close enough as is, so for now, he would accept his given hand.

 

One thing was for certain: he wasn’t leaving this position for the rest of the night.

 

_Good thing I at least went to the bathroom earlier._

 

Rumple slowly closed his eyes, taking in the bland and darkened white ceiling one more time before his shut eyelids shrouded him in darkness. This night had gotten too far out of hand. At this point, the best thing he could do was to just end it and deal with the consequences tomorrow would bring. He slowed his breathing and cleared his mind. His body went limp in the embrace of both his partner and his bed. The pinnacle of relaxation needed for an effective sleep was just in reach, when suddenly:

 

_“As time passed, my hatred for him just…faded. I now realize that the best I can do going into tomorrow is move forward.”_

And another:

_“At the end of the day, we both suffered and it’s time to put the past in the past where it belongs.”_

 

The blond’s eyes snapped open and he barely suppressed a groan.

 

_Will this night ever end?_

 

Miles’ words still nagged at him. **Everything** about Miles still nagged at him! How did such a vile curse produce such a man? Miles was loud, overly flirty, narcissistic, a troublemaker if there ever was one…

 

_But also kind, funny, caring, attentive…_

 

This time, Rumple let the whine escape, unafraid of Miles waking up. The very same man who was impairing Rumple’s sleep with his very presence was obliviously enjoying his own, snores permeating the air as rhythmically as a snare drum. Rumple, a man who was knew many things, was all too aware at this point that he wasn’t going to be blessed with sleep while his brain rustled with this new information.

 

He thought about Miles. Of course he did. The man was not only sleeping next to him, but was also draped over the pawnbroker’s chest as if he were another blanket. Both the man himself and his cursed counterpart had proven to be complex, far more so than Rumple could’ve ever predicted.

 

_Did it change anything?_

The curse was weakening for everyone, even if only slightly, though Rumple was far more sure that more progress had been made than just that. Ruby’s personality had become quite mature, matching qualities found in Red once more, and hers and Granny’s relationship mirrored the one held by their Enchanted Forest counterparts more now than it had in the past twenty-eight years. Mary Margaret had become much braver than her cursed self had ever been before, her latent inclinations to misbehave now running wild as she took a more bold approach to her love life. Even David Nolan, while he was nowhere near as noble as Prince Charming, the sheer amount of gall he showed by committing adultery matched up with the prince’s during his many encounters with the Evil Queen. Yes, the more time that had passed since Emma came to town, the closer Storybrooke’s population reflected those in their old land.

 

That also meant that it had to apply to Miles as well, right? Logically, the answer would be yes. Rumple had even seen such signs firsthand during their argument last month. During that short fight, a lack of forgiveness in his husband’s eyes that had never been there before suddenly became the man’s most prominent feature until the two made amends.

 

Miles was cursed just like anyone else in Storybrooke, sans Rumple and Regina. Of course his personality would take the same twists and turns.

 

...

 

But it didn’t make any sense when it came to Rumple’s husband.

 

Miles was still himself: Sweet, loving, passionate, sincere, selfless, and a bit reckless. He had been a bit less forgiving when it came to Rumple’s misdeeds, but that had been the only real change.

 

Rumple reflected on this. He hadn’t spent time with the captain before the curse. He learned a bit about who the captain used to be after Milah’s murder, so he knew about the basics of the origins of Killian Jones, but not much else. The wizard, through research, became aware of the man’s rough beginnings, including the king’s betrayal that lead to the death of the pirate’s beloved brother Liam. Through simple reasoning, he discovered the pirate’s extended stay in Neverland.

 

At the end of the day though, that was it. Killian Jones’ character was a mystery to him, but one he was apparently discovering more and more of by the day. Rumple’s forced interactions with the pirate had painted what was quickly becoming a very clear portrait of who the man was everyday, and even more so than the daily kisses and hugs was the fact that he hated just how much he liked what he saw.

 

_Was this…who he always was?_

 

This sweet, sincere man who treated the object of his affections like a deity, was that who the man really still was, after all the disguises of his cursed self were pulled off? Rumple wanted to argue against it, but it seemed more and more to be the case.

 

That wasn’t the man Rumple remembered.

 

But then again, Rumple had to ask himself: Did that man even exist?

 

_Of course he did!_

 

_He stole Milah, and waved her very absence over my head like a ticket stub!_

 

_…_

_…_

_And in return, I killed her, his True Love._

 

_Maybe…maybe it’s time to let it go._

It had been literal centuries since Rumple spared an ounce of love for his ex-wife. Any love he had for her was as dead as she was, so much so that he had even fallen in love with another woman!

But no! It…it wasn’t that simple! Killian was a bully to him! The captain had attempted to pressure him, a weak, feeble man with a child at home, into a sword fight that would all-too likely have ended in his demise.

 

Rumple wouldn’t waiver so easily on that point, and any other dimensions to Killian’s character weren’t his responsibility. That much he stood firmly by.

 

That being said, his previous point still stood as well: There **was** more to Killian, obviously, and as little as it mattered then, it very much mattered now, after months of bonding, and presumably, more to come. Whether Rumple liked it or not, and he most definitely did not, the relation between Hook and Miles could not be ignored, and, if for no other purpose than to prepare himself for the pirate once the curse was broken, should be analyzed.

 

That then begged the question, though: Was Hook truly the one who should’ve been punished by watching his lover die?

 

_Perhaps I gave the wrong fates to the wrong people._

 

His crimes, for as bad as they were, weren’t nearly as bad as what Milah put both Baelfire and Rumple through. However, when it came to their sentences, Milah definitely got the easier end of the deal. Death wasn’t so bad. To some degree, it was an escape just as much as it was a curse. Having to live without the one you love was a different story.

 

Had he killed Killian, well that would’ve been that. A dead man can hardly pursue revenge as far as Rumple knew. He sometimes could’ve sworn he heard the voices of his victims scream out to him in the night, but that was something Rumple ignored with ease. Where would that have left Milah? Lost with his absence, her lover’s dead body a symbol of her condemnation to a life of loneliness. The woman who decided that a safe life with a husband and child wasn’t enough would finally get her due, alone in a dangerous world for the remainder of her days while Rumple would finally get the reunion she would forever be denied. Just the thought of it was enough to make Rumple smirk with glee.

 

_So where does that leave me now?_

 

_...I suppose, as Miles aptly put it, it’s time to move forward and put the past in the past._

 

Was it as easy as that? Could he simply forgive one of his greatest enemies? Probably not, if only for the fact that when the cursed inevitably broke, Hook certainly **wouldn’t** keep the past in the past by any stretch of the imagination, but he’d deal with those events as they unfolded. If anything, it was one less distraction in his way.

 

Rumple’s reached conclusion seemed to have its effects. His body and mind felt about as at ease as could ever be expected, no longer under the strain of delay.

 

Tomorrow he’d deal with a hungover Miles and debate about fifty times whether or not this was the right move to make. Tomorrow, he’d get stares from his husband of all natures, which would make him ask again if there was even a way out of this arrangement. Tomorrow, he’d strategize about how he was going to strut around town in a way that will stop Emma and Ruby from breaking out into laughter at the mere memory of tonight’s antic.

 

Yes, tomorrow would be a burden onto itself.

 

For now though, this was acceptable, and it was all he needed to finally bring his evening to a close.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Rumple knew as his night was progressing that the following morning would be nothing short of interesting.

 

The first second of his day turned out to prove him right.

 

“Rob,” Miles called out loudly, apparently his first action conducted within seconds of waking based on their still compromising position from last night. Rumple stifled a groan.

 

“I’m right here,” the blond muttered bitterly, his face sunken into the crook of the fisherman’s neck. Rumple couldn’t quite say if the bitterness stemmed from the trouble he caused last night or the fact that Miles’ exclamation had woken him up, but it hardly mattered. The sun was pretty high up based upon what he saw out the window in the corner of his eyes. A look at the grandfather clock told him it was already eleven. He was still exhausted, but much less so. His sleep, until interrupted had been relatively comfortable and warm.

 

Miles looked Rumple straight in the eye, worry present through lines on his brow and frightened eyes. “Rob, I’m so sorry,” he apologized without hesitation.

 

“It’s alright,” the blond shelved.

 

“No it’s not,” Miles countered immediately. “I never should’ve drank so much that you’d have to come to pick me up. And then that sappiness in front of Ruby and Swan. You must hate me.”

 

“I don’t, and you’ve forgiven me for worse.” Rumple found himself completely unmoved by how truly natural and genuine the statement was coming out of his mouth.

 

“Still no excuse,” Miles dismissed.

 

“You were out with your friends. You were having fun. No one was hurt. Let’s drop it.” He could tell Miles was almost tempted to take his husband up on his forgiveness. The man’s head probably hurt, and sleep, especially with him right beside him, was a much more alluring prospect than getting out of bed right now.

 

But no. Rumple knew the man was far too stubborn to just give in like that.

 

Miles kissed his hair. “I love you. Still doesn’t mean I’m not going to spend the day making up for it. How about I make you some coffee?” He felt Miles start to pull himself away. Though Rumple felt nothing short of indifference to the thought of them separating, not even satisfaction at the thought of the return of his personal space, he felt a lump at the bottom of his chest as Miles’ wobbly form started to get out of bed. Perhaps it was just the longing for shared body heat rearing its head once again?

 

_Well, I am cold._

 

Rumple pulled back.

 

“Stay,” he breathlessly commanded.

 

“Look, Rob, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but after the night I must’ve put you through, the least I can do is do something for you.” The cursed pirate continued his pilgrimage outside the bedroom, but Rumple found that he couldn’t quite let go of the man’s wrist, binding the two together.

“Stay in bed. I-I want you with me.”

 

_Besides, I’m comfy._

 

Miles rolled his eyes in the same old good-natured way he always did, but nonetheless complied, slinking back next to Rumple. The blond eased into the embrace once more.

 

“Fine,” he conceded with a mockingly upset tone of voice, “but I’m doing your laundry later today **and** I’m taking you out to dinner tonight.”

 

“As you wish, dearie, but for now, this is enough.”

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: It’s finally done! Hallelujah!!!!
> 
> Please comment! This was a big chapter for this little story of mine (both story-wise and in terms of how long it took to write), and I’d really like to hear what you all thought of it.
> 
> I promise you that the wait for the next chapter won’t be so long.
> 
> Anyway, comment or not, I hope you have a great day and enjoy tonight’s new episode!


	16. Chapter 15: A Mile(s) in His Shoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time nor any of the show’s characters.
> 
> I love this fucking show! Just got through 6X12 at the time of writing this (“A Murder Most Foul”), which can also be called “Perfection: The Episode.” That episode was just MADE of amazingness! I love how we see Killian’s journey through redemption surge forward, and that sucker punch at the end that both reminds us of the pirate he started out as and showed us how far he’s come! I LOVED seeing Emma, my favorite character, happy for a change! …I don’t love her abysmal taste in candy (Milk Duds are gross!). I LOVE Josh Dallas’ acting. I love the flashback and how everything looked. Despite knowing a lot of spoilers, I am in the edge of my seat for the resolution! 
> 
> Just a note about this chapter: This chapter will be taking place from Miles’ point of view, and because of that, outside of dialogue, Rumple will be referred to as Robert or Rob, even though Rumple has already reclaimed his memories. This, my readers, is called narrative voice. Much in the same vein as how in Chapter 14, despite being a Milah fan (Bite me or fight me!), I had to use less than kind language when referring to her.
> 
> On another note, Chapter 16 is VERY close to being ready for release. I’m hoping against hope that I can get at least two of these out before the end of Season 6 (Or possibly the series, though I have every intention of forwarding the story if the show ends, like close to 300 pages of content!). In addition, I am also working on editing my old chapters. I like freshening them up to make them more readable. Depending on how much I think it might benefit the story, I may add more content to the fic. I don’t know if it will go as far as writing an entire scene, but I just want to put my story in it’s best form. This should be done by the release of the next chapter. One change that will be going into effect now is that I have finally come to terms with the fact that, despite what I believed, Rumple does not have dirty blond hair, but rather brown hair. That was just always my perspective of the character. Anyway, suffice to say, I will no longer continue to refer to him by an inaccurate description. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

**“A Mile(s) in His Shoes”**

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Silence through the absence of an alarm clock was Miles’ favorite thing to wake up to.

 

Today, it was not to the sound of loud beeps that Miles Gold woke up to from his slumber, but rather the shifting sheets stemming from his bedmate’s movements.

 

It was a cold morning, nothing unusual for mid-January. The blankets above his and Robert’s bodies were the perfect shields against the frost-filled air, something that led to the couple spending many a night tucked loosely underneath the warm bedding.

 

Not to mention, close to each other.

 

Miles held Robert snugly that night. He always did when there was a chill, far too aware of his husband’s frigid fate when that wasn’t the case. Robert was quite small and it was an attribute that served to his detriment, as it was that much easier for him to get cold. Throughout the years, cuddling Rob had become equal parts a delight and his responsibility, one he loved making sure was not taken lightly.

 

Right now, though, the task was endangered, and by the very man he sought to protect no less. Robert was inching away towards the edge of the bed and Miles’ hold on him was steadily loosening.

 

"Where do you think you're going," Miles purred coyly, his arms closing in on Rob's body as he sought to reclaim their original position once more.

 

“Nowhere," the man replied tightly, yet innocently. Had it been for a trip to the bathroom, Miles wouldn’t have bothered him, but the cursed pirate knew his lover well. Robert had his mannerisms when he got up like this. There was a twinge of guilt in his shoulders and hands, one that was not present when the blond got up with the full intention of coming back. Right now, such gestures were showing, and Miles was having none of it.

 

"Damn straight. Pawnshop's closed on Sunday. You remember our rule."

 

Indeed he did, or at least the man currently snuggling him hoped as much. Miles and his husband worked business hours, and every so often, one would be compelled to work on a Saturday with the promise of more pay or simply a chance to take care of overdue maintenance. Sunday though, was an exception. On Sunday, they promised each other that barring some very extenuating circumstances, none of which applied at the moment, neither man would work. Instead, the two would spend the day together, and that day typically involved sleeping in. Miles re-enclosed the space he had filled earlier.

 

“Relax,” the younger man cooed. “Stay a while. I promise, I won’t bite.” Robert fell back into his husband with a good natured, yet exasperated ‘fine.’ Miles contemplated it as his lover once again relaxed his arms.

 

The plea was a jest, but for a while, Miles was sincerely worried that Robert would take any opportunity to get away from him.

 

It all began near the end of October.

 

Seemingly out of the blue, Robert started to pull away from him. It wasn’t direct, though, but Miles could feel it in their every embrace. For once thing, it was never Rob who initiated physical contact, but he was merely taking it in when it was offered by Miles. For another thing, while he **did** accept the physical touches, it wasn’t initially. No, at the first sign of those touches, Robert would flinch. Miles refrained from saying anything, as he could tell Rob was doing his best to hide it, but as he discovered that this repellence of physical contact, no matter how subconscious it may have been, it started breaking his heart.

 

Miles didn’t understand why it was happening, and it was destroying him from the inside not being able to do anything about it.

 

He started asking himself questions. Was it him? Did he do something to scare Rob or make the man feel less than loved?

 

He began going over everything that had transpired around the time where it started happening, but for the life of him, he couldn’t think of anything that would result this behavior.

 

This went on for about a month. Then one evening, Miles saw a way to make things better. It came in a moment of arousal after Miles stole a peek at Robert’s arms as his lover prepared their dinner.

 

For the first time in a while, he became optimistic. Maybe Robert had been on edge lately and that’s what this was all about, and perhaps what he needed was a night of fooling around and fun to get him back to himself. So Miles presented the idea, welcoming Robert into his space wholeheartedly, making sure Rob knew how much he wanted him there.

 

But once again, it didn’t take. This time, though, instead of taking it in, Robert flat out rejected the offer.

 

It wasn’t a problem that Robert said no. Only the vilest of despots would reason that. No, this and the fact that Robert once again froze up at even the hugs Miles gave before he started his attempt at seduction. It lasted far beyond the surprise that one, namely Robert, would go through whenever Miles would ever catch him off guard.

 

During his search to find out whether the cause of his husband’s anguish truly wasn’t him, Miles thought more on why Robert would be inclined to avoid even the tiniest of brushes of the skin. Up until then, he had yet to come up with a solution, leading him to fear the worst for both himself and his marriage.

 

Then it came to him during that very dinner. As he prepared the table, Miles looked at a calendar, trying to find something to take his mind off of the heartbreak that had just occurred. Upon looking at it, he recognized a date close by, one that, much to the couple’s lament, would live on in their hearts forever.

 

On November 30, just as Miles was deprived of a hand, Robert was deprived of both a wife and child.

 

While Miles had lost family galore and knew the desolation that came with it well, never had he known the agonizing pain that came with losing both one’s spouse and one’s child. He could never imagine it, but he knew both were so different than losing parents or even a brother. A spouse was someone who you actively made a part of one’s family, and a child was progeny, the fruits of that very love between one and one’s spouse, whether adopted, conceived, or otherwise. Through Rob though, he had gotten a glimpse of it. Losing a wife and son meant days of emptiness, where sitting or laying alone with no occupying thoughts was horrifying. It was looking to a future of bleak reminders of what one once had, and had one question why they would bother getting up at all to see them. It meant having something so open as life feel so purposeless. It meant that anything and everything was a bitter reminder of their deaths.

 

He realized the time of grieving was closing in on Robert and that was always a touchy time for the man. It never came out this strongly, but it was still present through a level of indifference and hors spent reliving old memories in scrapbooks and wayward pictures around the house. Now understanding the source, Miles had felt guilty even being upset by the fact that it was occurring. Insecurities now assuaged, he doubled up on his efforts to show his husband love. 

 

From then on, things got easier. Slowly, Robert stopped recoiling at their every embrace. Then, the brunet started contributing to their intimacy again. He relaxed and deepened their kisses, and held Miles just as tightly as Miles held him. They still hadn’t had sex, now going for a few months, but Miles hardly minded. Yes, physical intimacy in a relationship was important, but he had matured past the juvenile stage of his preteen life where its absence was a deal breaker. As far as he was concerned, the sex would come back when it came back and he knew the last thing that would do him any good was trying to rush things along unnaturally. He not only didn’t want that, but he didn’t need it either.

 

From as early as the beginning of their kinship, Miles knew that patience would be the key to making their relationship work, and this latest obstacle was no exception. Everything from secrets shared to physical contact made would happen, but it would come with time. The same thing applied to him. Talking about his feelings when dealing with the loss of his hand and even reaching the point where he allowed Robert to touch his stump didn’t come overnight. It took even longer for the fisherman to stop holding his breath like a frightened animal every time that his boyfriend touched the spot where his former appendage one rested, well into their romantic relationship.

 

That patience was rewarded. Miles took a deep whiff of his husband’s hair. Even before he got out of bed and showered, Robert’s locks still smelled as appealing as a rose in bloom. In response, Rob took his hand and held it to his heart, lowering his head so the brunet’s chin touched his thumb.

 

Miles grinned and planted a lazy kiss to Robert’s forehead.

 

Right now, in this room, in this bed, everything was right with the world.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Miles drove down Main Street, his breath hitched and his gaze focused on the road ahead.

 

The Widow Lucas’ call had made things seem quite urgent, and Miles was never one to ignore a call of distress from her. Seldom did she ever call him and ask him to come by the restaurant in the first place. There were occasions where she did, but they were reserved for when one or more of his friends got a little too drunk for their own good and he was all that was left in terms of contacts to come collect them. But that was impossible - it had to be! It wasn’t even one in the afternoon yet!

 

_At least I hope it is._

 

Parking by the diner was decent, enough so that Miles didn’t have to stray too far before finally getting inside.

 

Miles surveyed Granny’s restaurant as he walked inside. No one out of the ordinary sat in the booth or rested upon the stools. There were no lurching sounds of drunken fools stemming from the lavatory and the restaurant smelled not of strong liqueur or vomit, but instead of fried potatoes and meat.

 

_Where’s the bloody fire?_

Granny appeared from the kitchen’s confines seconds after Miles came in, an apron atop her pink-checkered dress.

 

“Miles,” she exclaimed. “Thanks for coming.”

 

“Anytime. Now, what’s going on? Everything seems quite calm around here.”

 

Granny flicked her wrist. “It’s not any of them I need your help with. It’s Emma. She’s your friend, right?”

 

“Swan? Yeah. What’s wrong?” The air suddenly felt thinner.

 

“She hasn’t left that station in two days. I’m not delivering to her anymore and she promised she’d come get some food personally.”

 

Miles raised a brow. “Then I must ask of the problem with that. Seems that you have everything under control.”

 

The elder shook her head and folded her arms. “She’s a crafty woman, and the last time I tried starving her out, she picked up her food, wolfed it down, and was out of here in ten minutes. She’s coming over soon but I’m up to my ears with work to keep this place running. So when she gets here, do you think you could talk to her? Just get her to rest a bit before she has a stroke.”

 

Miles bit his cheek and nodded.

 

“I didn’t realize it had gotten this bad,” he admitted.

 

“I told you, she’s crafty. She should be here in around ten minutes. Whatever you want is on the house if you can keep her here for a little while.”

 

Miles took a seat at a table in the middle of the diner, careful to sit so that he was facing the door. Just as the Widow Lucas predicted, in a matter of minutes, a certain blonde sheriff emerged from the door.

 

Emma’s eyes were heavy and she slouched as she walked. He knew the look of over-exhaustion well. As soon as she saw him, Miles waved and signaled for her to come join him. Emma approached, but did not sit down.

 

“Swan,” he greeted. “Look at you, out and about!”

 

“First time I’ve been out of the station in days,” she mumbled. “Granny refuses to deliver anything else until I come out for a meal.” As Emma said that, said diner owner came by the counter, smugly smiling at the exasperated sheriff. An order for a grilled cheese and onion rings was made through a sigh and Miles ordered the same as well, albeit more cheerfully, right afterwards.

 

Miles softened as he saw Emma all but forced to relax. It **had** been a while since he had seen her. They had chatted a few times after Emma’s recent display at the Town Hall, but over the past couple of weeks, she’d been noticeably absent from his life, the instance from his drunk escapades from the other night aside. He tried to have the two of them get together following that evening, but Emma declined the invitation by stating that she was too busy. It was something that, had it come from anyone else, Miles would’ve considered a way of blowing him off, but when it came from Emma, he somehow knew that it was absolutely true.

 

“Just letting you know,” she continued, “I’m going to try to make this fast. I don’t want to be seen out of the station too long.”

 

“Swan, sit,” he gently insisted. “You’re no good to anyone, Henry included, if you’re stressed.”

 

“I really can’t, Miles.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because someone could need me at the station,” she stated as if it were obvious.

 

“You have a phone, and I know from Graham that it was and I imagine still is connected to the sheriff’s phone,” he countered.

 

“What if someone comes into the station?”

 

“Then they’ll call you. Now if you’re done making excuses, I’d personally like to eat with my friend.” Seeing Emma still hesitant, he decided to up his game. “Come on, and join me for lunch. Please! I’ll even pay.”

 

_Sorry Granny._

 

The sheriff sighed. “Fine,” she spoke, not all that annoyed at all as she finally sat across from Miles.

 

“How’ve you been,” Emma asked, somewhat guiltily.

 

“I’ve been well. Same stuff, different day. Rob and I are getting into that new ABC show. How about yourself?”

 

“I’ve been pretty busy with work.”

 

“Any exciting cases?”

 

“I wish.”

 

“What cases **have** you been looking at?”

 

“Parking violations. Speeding incidents caught on camera. Noise disturbances.” Emma raised fingers on what was previously a fist as she listed off each infraction, her exasperation building like a crescendo.

 

“So basically, anything you can get your hands on,” Miles concluded.

 

“Yeah. Until something big comes up, it’s all I can do.”

 

“How’s the work itself?”

 

“Mind-numbing,” she replied. “And when I’m not doing that, I’m taking a page out of your husband’s book and reading through the town charter as well as some law books.”

 

Just then, two plates of grilled cheese and onion rings were put in front of the patrons, courtesy of Granny. The two took to eating their meals. Miles would occasionally break up the free space in the air by talking about the show he had just gotten into, bringing up the drama and how much he related to the layered characters. Emma promised she’d pirate the first few episodes when she next got some free time, leading to a mock lamentation of Emma’s fall back into thievery. Miles took satisfaction knowing that he at least got her to smile in that instance. Whenever he saw Emma eating quicker than usual, he would give her a stern look and she would slow down.

 

“I hate this,” Emma sulked, her lunch halfway completed.

 

“I actually quite like the grilled cheese. Rob always tells me I should order things other than seafood more often, and times like this get me to start thinking that he’s right.”

 

Emma quirked her brow upwards. “I mean the whole situation with Henry and Regina. Miles, you said you were friends with her. How did you manage that?”

 

“Believe it or not Swan, she was different before,” he said with a tone that wasn’t one of condescension, but an explanatory one for the sake of information. “She and Rob and I, we used to be friends. Not too close, but we did value each other’s company. We’d have dinner together. We’d talk at parties. Rob and I would babysit Henry when she was on business. I think a lot of why we spent time together was because like Rob, Regina has a bit of a reputation about her. Apart from Henry, Rob, and I, and now you too, she intimidates others and because of that, she’s one of my few friends that doesn’t try to avoid him.”

 

“Let me ask **you** then: What do you think happened with her to turn her into such a bitch?” Miles eyes widened and released a joking gape. “Not sorry about that one,” she said with a shrug.

 

“I’m just busting your chops, Swan. God knows you have enough reasons to hate the woman. But, if I may offer my two cents, I’d say that it stems from a rough patch Henry’s going through.”

 

“With the book?”

 

“The book?”

 

“Yeah, Henry thinks everyone in Storybrooke is a fairy tale cartoon,” she explained.

 

_Always was an imaginative boy, that one._

 

Miles paused and thought of his answer to Emma’s question. “Ah. Well, I was more referring to the lad coming to grips with his upbringing. When Henry found out he was adopted, from what I understood, he started asking a lot of questions, many of which Regina didn’t know how to answer, seeing as it was a closed adoption. I think that inability to answer those questions caused a rift between them. Then, as you say, this book theory must have came about and I can’t imagine Regina was all too happy with it.”

 

“Henry calls her the Evil Queen.”

 

“As you can see, their relationship was pretty rocky by that point, but now we bring you in. There’s nothing you’ve done that wrong, of course, but Regina sees Henry rebelling at the very idea that she’s his mother, and after ten years of being his sole parent, it’s hard to see him say those things to say the very least. And now you’re staying and to her, I guess, it’s a bit of a perpetuation of that mentality. Regina’s not his mother anymore because his real mom is here.”

 

“That’s just what she thinks.” Emma put her hand to her forehead and crinkled her hair. “Miles, the only reason I even stayed here was because when I asked her if she loved Henry, my lie detector went off when she said she did,” the blonde informed. “I don’t know what that means, if it means she doesn’t love him in the right way, or if she doesn’t love him at all, but my lie detector is never wrong.”

 

“I’ve seen her with that boy. She definitely does love him, but I suppose, given all that was mentioned, that love has simply been…compromised for the time being.” The two became silent, each taking another bite out of their sandwiches. Miles went over his friend’s plight. It was pitiful what was happening to her. Now, seeing Emma suffer like she was, Miles wanted more than anything to help her. Emma had asked the cursed pirate not to get involved in her conflict with Regina, not wanting to ruin their friendship. He acquiesced her, but now he was starting to doubt if that was the right move.

 

“Hey Swan?”

 

“Yeah,” she responded through a half full mouth.

 

“Would you like me to talk to Regina?”

 

Emma swallowed. “Do you really want to get involved in this shit storm?” From Emma’s perspective, Miles supposed it wasn’t exactly the most reasonable request to make.

 

“Not in that sense, no, but maybe I can appeal to her. At the very least, I might be able to convince her to let you see Henry again or even just learn more about anything she may be up to.”

 

“Regina’s been a jerk to everyone from Henry’s teacher to his therapist. I just don’t know if you’re going to be treated any differently, and I’m worried you’re not going to come out of this unburned.”

 

“I guess I should take that as a no.”

 

“No, but I’d take it as a warning. Even the biggest suck up in town wasn’t immune to her wrath. Speaking of him, as far as keeping up with what Regina’s working on, Sidney’s been keeping up with his research. He hasn’t found anything so far, but he checks on that wiretap I told you about all the time.” Miles rolled his eyes.

 

_Looks like we’ve reached **this** part of the afternoon again._

 

Miles was devastated when he heard of what had transpired with the castle incident. He wasn’t at Town Hall on the day of the meeting, busy at work, but Robert had given him a full report when he came home. At first, he couldn’t believe his ears. Emma falsely accused Regina of embezzlement? How did that come about? There had to be a mistake! Then, when Rob revealed the identity of Emma’s cohort, he understood everything. It didn’t take long for he and his husband to obtain matching conclusions over what had happened.

 

Sidney had lied to Emma. It was as plain to see as the nose on his face.

 

When Emma first stated otherwise, Miles tried to believe her. He certainly wanted to. Emma was his friend, after all, and a smart woman to boot. But even stronger than the testimony of one who was growing to be one his closest companions, Miles knew Sidney and Miles knew love. The ex-reporter had always viewed Regina with a twinkle in his eye, and every article he wrote about her for _The Daily Mirror_ had gone above and beyond accentuate her every positive quality, some of which bordered on what was and wasn’t suitable for a professional journalist. Those were signs of love, or at the very least, strong infatuation. Of course, one could love someone and be angry with them at the same time. Miles knew that to be the truth all too well.

 

“I still don’t think you should be trusting Sidney, Swan,” he said, repeating something he had told her at this point countless times before.

 

“Miles,” Emma groaned. “We’ve been over this. Sidney’s working against Regina. He’s helping me!”

 

“Do you really think he’d be so quick to turn on her?”

 

“Miles, she fired him for losing a rigged election! He was the head of the paper and I don’t think I have to tell you how much he loved his job.”

 

“And **I** don’t think I have to tell you how much he loves her. Love like that take a lot of time to demolish, Swan.”

 

“Maybe this was just his breaking point. She’s an ass to everyone else in this town. Safe to say she was probably an ass to him too.”

 

“She’s been an ass to him long before you showed up, love. If he was going to break, he would’ve done so long before now.”

 

Emma put her hand to her face.

 

“Miles,” Emma pleaded, her mouth against her palm. “Can we please not do this right now? I’m on a break, one of the few I’m taking until God knows when.”

 

Miles nodded, remembering himself.

 

_I’m here to give her a break. Correcting her misconceptions about Regina’s lackey is a mountain to crumble another day._

 

“Fair enough, Swan. How’s Henry? Any luck seeing your boy?”

 

“Not from any closer than a couple hundred feet.” Emma started looking antsy, like she was figuring out how to leave. Miles grimaced.

 

_Maybe not the best choice of conversation topics._

_Hmmm. Maybe I can turn it around…_

“I’ve a question for you, Swan,” Miles stated again.

 

“Oh?”

 

“So you told me Henry has a theory that everyone in this town was once a fairy tale character, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well, what I want to know is in this fairy-tale reality, who does the lad see me as?” Immediately, a blush appeared of the young woman’s face.

 

“He thinks…” Emma paused awkwardly. She looked like she was mentally chiding herself.

 

“Hmmm.” Miles stared at her more intently. The sheriff looked away, back at her food.

 

“He thinks…you’re Captain Hook,” the blonde slowly admitted as she shrunk into her chair.

 

Miles quirked his brow, truthfully taking it in strive. “I’m not sure whether or not to label that as inappropriate. I do hope you’re not teaching the boy to make such appearance-based judgments.” Just to show his lack of offense, he released a good-natured smile.

 

_Can’t say I didn’t walk right into that one._

 

Emma gave him an appreciative smile and a roll of the eyes as thanks. “It’s not just the hand, believe it or not. You work on a boat, you love the docks, and you drink rum.”

 

“Now that you bring **that** up, I suppose it’s rather fitting.” Miles softly laughed. After a few seconds, Emma laughed too, and Miles was glad to see it.

 

_Mission accomplished._

 

Then Emma’s phone buzzed. She looked at her phone and sighed.

 

_Or so I thought._

 

“It’s the station. Hold on a second.” Emma started listening to the voice. “What’s going on?” A break happened. “Where was that?” Then another. “How long has it been out for?” A third. “Okay, I’ll be right there.” Finally, the blonde hung up the phone.

 

“Not good, I take it?”  


“A traffic light just blew,” she announced. “Looks like I’ll be spending the next few hours taking care of that.” She looked at Miles apologetically. “Sorry. Gotta go.”

 

“Don’t worry about it, Swan, but don’t forget to take care of yourself either.”

 

“Between you, Granny, and Mary Margaret, how could I forget?” Emma threw her jacket on and headed out the door.

 

Miles made a mental note to drop by the sheriff’s station later with a hot cup of coffee in hand as well as an invitation for lunch next week.

 

_If the three of us can help it, you never will._

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Miles and Emma had just finished a nice lunch at Granny’s. Rob, his usual choice for a dining companion was apparently, as he put it over the phone, “up to his ears with paperwork” at the shop, and Miles found company in his new friend who thankfully didn’t need to be pushed too much before agreeing to go out. Granny thanked him for pulling the sheriff out of her office for a spell, and while Emma wouldn’t say it openly, despite Miles’ promptings, he could see the gratefulness in her eyes.

 

Emma made a break back to the station in her bug after hearing of another issue. She had offered Miles a ride back to his workplace, but Miles declined. He could see the anxiety in his friend’s eyes concerning the incident and the docks were out of her way in any event.

 

Despite the near-freezing winter temperatures, the sky was as blue as the ocean today with hardly a cloud in the sky. One might confuse Storybrooke’s streets as the backdrop for a lovely summer day had it not been for the heavier jackets that sported nearly every citizen.

 

_Truly, it’s a beautiful day._

Miles was pulled from his thoughts by a piercing sound that shot through the air like a invisible firecracker. Upon examining his surroundings, he realized it was the ringing of a bell. The sounding of the bell was followed promptly by the laughter and raucous of excited and liberated schoolchildren. It wasn’t shocking. Miles was but two blocks from the Storybrooke Elementary schoolyard. The one-handed man was just about to cross the street as to best stay out of the youngsters’ ways when a thought struck him.

 

_Henry’s in that school, isn’t he?_

_Yes, I believe he is._

_Maybe I can use this moment to Swan’s advantage._

Sure, Emma was banned from Henry for the time being, but he certainly wasn’t! It had been a few weeks since his friend had last seen her son up close, and it had become quite clear to everyone that with every passing moment, she had become more and more desperate to get in contact with him. Emma had already revealed what she was doing on the night that Rob found her and she and Rob picked him up from Granny’s. And now she was working tirelessly to earn her way back into his life.

 

Surely, she would no doubt appreciate any information, especially from another perspective than that which she already regularly received from. Mary Margaret was a good friend to her, but due to both her timid nature and the delicacy of her profession, she could be, for lack of a better word, filtered. Also, as pointed out by Emma herself, lately, the schoolteacher had become a bit…distracted. By what, Miles didn’t really know, and Emma didn’t appear to either. What he did know was that he didn’t share Mary Margaret’s shortcomings and could perhaps give his friend a better testimony of her son’s wellbeing.

 

At the same time though, it was risky. Regina had to know of his and Emma’s friendship by now. They weren’t too vocal about their association but they spent enough time together in public where it had become common knowledge. If she saw Miles talking with Henry, it could be bad for Emma.

 

_I’ll just have to keep me wits about, now won’t I?_

 

With an eye carefully focused on the road as to see incoming traffic, Miles walked in the direction of the school. In the fuss of the dismissal, no one batted an eye at his appearance within the crowds. He saw Henry tread towards a clearing in the area a short ways away from the spot reserved for school busses. He looked happy enough that the day was ending, but had, to a degree, lacked the spark that he had picked up over the past few months, one that matched the one found in a very dear friend of his.

 

“Hey Henry,” Miles called nonchalantly as he approached. “How’ve you been?”

 

“Hi Miles,” the child greeted. “I’m good.”

 

Miles grinned. “Good to hear, boy. Listen, I’m going to talk to your mother soon.”

 

“Which one,” Henry asked, snark littering his voice.

 

_Little spitfire I see. Seems that the apple doesn’t fall far from either tree whether grown or grafted._

 

“I think we both know that if I was referring to our dear mayor, I wouldn’t need to even mention it to you first,” Killian replied with just as much sass. “Now, lad, is there anything you want me to tell Emma for you?”

 

The child took a moment to ponder the question, all the while looking pensively at the road. Miles knew Regina would be here any minute to pick up her son and Henry evidently knew the same to be true too.

 

“Tell her Operation Cobra’s still going strong, no matter who has the book,” he finally answered. “Tell her she’s the Savior, whether she believes me yet or not. I’m not giving up, and she shouldn’t either.”

 

“You got it, Henry, but if I may ask, what, may I ask, is Operation Cobra?”

 

“Sorry Miles, but that’s on a need-to know basis.”

 

“Very well, I know better to get between a man and his affairs,” Miles joked.

 

_Maybe it has to do with that whole book thing._

 

“Anything else?”

 

“Tell her I miss her?”

 

_The poor lad. He looks so helpless._

 

“Aye. I will, lad. Just sit tight. Knowing Swan like we do, she’ll have this sorted out before you know it.” Miles was just about to head off, but he saw signs of scheming behind the eyes of the young boy. Miles may have been but a bystander through Henry and Emma’s adventures, but the blonde had disclosed more than enough stories for him to understand what scheming on the boy’s half would ultimately lead to. “What are you planning?”

 

“N-nothing,” Henry answered, far too quickly for Miles to buy into. Miles dared the kid’s honesty with a disbelieving stare, and while Henry had a good resolve with an innocent smile he sported, it didn’t take too long for it to falter against the adult’s stubborn intuition.

 

“Trying to help your mother out, am I right?”

 

“It’s not fair,” Henry exclaimed, foregoing all pretense. “She made one mistake!”

 

“I know,” Miles agreed. “Heavens, I know. Your mother wouldn’t chase a lead without damn good reasoning behind it.”

 

_Or, a really clever **person** behind it, but let’s set that aside._

The fisherman decided against telling his theory to Henry. The boy’s mind was riled enough as is, and Miles didn’t doubt that no matter what he’d say afterwards, if something or someone Henry could latch onto preceded it, it would fall upon deaf ears.

 

_Just saved my own damned skin on that one._

 

Miles bit his tongue when he realized that he just swore in front of a child. “Er…don’t say that curse word, lad.” Henry only smirked in response. “That being said,” Miles continued, re-focusing the subject, “the next-worse thing you could do is by looking like you’re imitating the behavior and chasing wild clues. Henry, your mother wants to see you again, as fast as she can.”

 

“Let me help her out, then!”

 

“You and I both know that the best way to help Emma out is by staying out of trouble.” Henry gave him a pleading look before dramatically sighing.

 

“Fine.”

 

“That’s a good lad,” Miles smiled as he tussled the boy’s hair. Though annoyed at his now ruffled locks, the boy looked much more like his usual self than he had since his forced separation from his mother started.

 

“Excuse you,” someone sharply called from behind. Miles stood back up instantly, his spine as straight as a board. He knew the voice from the second it touched his ears. It used to belong to someone he considered sweeter than her turnovers, but lately, born of stories from those he considered to be his closest companions, it came from a place of pettiness and an all-consuming abuse of power and stood as a sign that things may be heading south fast.

 

_Regina…_

 

Miles for a second was left in breathless shock. This was the first time Regina had ever talked to him like that, with such outright vitriol. Even as he approached Henry’s school, knowing the risk of encountering his friend in a sour mood, Miles still held out a bit of hope that perhaps Regina wouldn’t immediately be at his throat with her attitude.

 

_It looks like that delusion can vacate my thoughts._

 

He turned to look at the woman. Dressed in an onyx pantsuit, her arms were firmly folded and her glare was deep as she returned Miles’ stare. Her car took the place of the now vanished school bus. “Step away from my son,” she commanded with the air of nobility. “Henry, get in the car.”

 

“Mom,” Henry called out defiantly. Miles eyed him, wordlessly reminding him of the recently shared advice. The boy, getting the message loud and clear, grumbled as he sulked over to the vehicle. The cursed pirate expected Regina to follow suit, perhaps with a final glare beforehand, but after making sure that Henry was inside the car, she turned back to Miles, her eyes cold and unsympathetic.

 

“Listen, Flipper breath,” she commanded, “I don’t know what you’re up to, but if it’s relaying information from Miss Swan to Henry, I’d suggest you stop.”

 

_Flipper breath?_

 

Miles stared at her right back, straight in the eye, not with a glare, nor fear in his eyes, but simply with an unwavering look all his own. “Regina,” he spoke softly, “I’m doing nothing but seeing how the boy is. He’s being kept from one of his mothers. I only want to know how he’s holding up. You have to see how there’s no harm in that.”

 

“No, I don’t,” she said, just as menacingly as before. “Miss Swan nearly made a fool of both my administration and me. I won’t be having her do the same to Henry.”

 

“I know what Swan did wasn’t right,” Miles stated, still calmly but with much less wavering confidence, “but don’t you think she’s suffered enough? I’ve been talking with her. She’s investigating every infraction as hard as she can, just so she doesn’t mess up again. She spends so much time at the station that she has a pillow there. Granny delivers her dinner. Emma learned from her stunt, and anyone can see it.”

 

“What anyone can see is that Miss Swan is so desperate to see **my** son that she’s willing to put up a hard-working front. Nothing she’s done since that incident has earned my forgiveness and nothing has happened in this town in far too long for me to feel safe, so no, I won’t be letting her off the hook so easily.”

 

“You know as well as I do that Storybrooke’s a quiet town more often than it isn’t,” Miles pointed out. “There’s something more going on here for you than just a distrust in Emma.” Regina sneered.

 

“I don’t have to answer to you,” the queen said with finality. With that, Regina started to head for her car.

 

Miles debated letting her go off. Surely, furthering this discussion would do nothing to help things along, especially with Regina in her current temperament. Every odd seemed against him.

 

But Miles refused. Something in his heart, in spite of all reasoning, compelled him to try again. For the sake of their friendship, Miles felt he owed it to himself and to Regina to give it one last chance.

 

Miles hurried for the driver’s door his brace-covered stub atop the hood of the vehicle. Regina stopped just as she touched the handle and they locked eyes once more.

 

“Regina, wait,” he said, half-shouting. “Please let me help you. I’m your friend, and we’ve known each other for years. We’ve eaten dinner together more nights than I can count. I watched Henry grow up.” Miles felt his heart ache with every measure of his plea.

 

Regina evidently didn’t.

 

“Things change, pirate!”

 

Miles stopped in his tracks.

 

_Pirate?_

Just as soon at the word left Regina’s mouth, the queen paused. Miles could tell she was going over her words. She didn’t look apologetic, but rather, worried. Then, without a word to explain herself, she entered her car and took off, and Miles, still in shock, let her, moving to the side.

 

Once again, the thought chorused through him.

 

_Pirate?_

 

For a moment, probably out of vague hope, Miles thought that she was referring to his apparent book counterpart. Regina no doubt knew about the book, so perhaps the insult had to do with that?

 

But no, Miles could tell it wasn’t that and didn’t waste much time kidding himself into thinking that it was. Calling him a pirate in those terms hardly amounted to anything since she had no idea that he also knew what the book meant to Henry as well. Besides, everything about her tone clearly conveyed that what she was said to him was nothing short of an insult.

 

Miles wasn’t a dolt. He knew when a slur had been flung at him. He had never been a stranger to hateful language going in his general direction. When you’re married to the town’s so-called “nasty landlord,” it kind of comes with the territory. However, what were by far the worst and most uncalled for comments that were ever made, and thankfully were made only rarely, were the ones that attacked his and Robert on the grounds of their partner’s chosen gender. All in all, Storybrooke was very accepting of their relationship as a whole. It was part of why they chose to stay here, but once in a blue moon, they would find that real piece of work who never learned a shred of human decency.

 

But of all those people who **were** horrible to them on those grounds, Miles never thought that Regina would need to be added to that list. She had never shown even the slightest bit of ill will previously towards his and Robert’s sexual orientation.

 

_Another misconception now shattered._

 

His phone vibrated from inside the pocket of his jacket.

 

We’re back up and running. Please get back as soon as you can.

 

Miles looked ahead. The way back to the docks was long and the rest of the day would be equally tedious. He shrugged further into his coat. Lawrence would forgive his tardiness and he didn’t care one way or the other to otherwise coax a ride out of anyone.

 

For now, he just wanted to be alone.

 

His vigor gone, Miles slowly sulked his way through the town back to work.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

“She called you a pirate?!”

 

Emma’s voice over the phone had Miles’ ears ringing. Twigs crunched under the cursed pirate’s shoes as he walked further and further from the docks.

 

He had elected to spend the time during his commute home telling Emma of what had transpired that afternoon, remembering why he initially did it in the first place. The topic of his and Regina’s confrontation did not come about willingly. At first, he just called to let her know that he saw Henry and that he wanted to give his mother a message. Emma had listened, as first gratefully as Miles told her about Henry’s mood, but Miles reasoned his acting must’ve been quite bad, for Emma could tell that things didn’t stay cheerful for long. From then, Miles got a first-hand encounter with his friend’s lie detector and ended up telling her all about what happened.

 

“Yes, Swan,” he confirmed, “A pirate.”

 

“She’s the worst,” Emma complained. Miles said nothing. Miles could hear a deep breath on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry that she said that to you,” she said softly.

 

“I knew you weren’t lying when you told me all that she’s done to you so far. I…I think that seeing it in action just made it all that much more real. You asked me not to approach her because it would endanger our friendship. For a while, I think I listened to your plea because, as much as I didn’t want to believe it, I trusted your theory to be true. Guess we were both right.”

 

“I wish we weren’t.”

 

Miles took a deep breath, unable to come up with a response. He no longer wanted to talk.

 

He no longer wanted to do anything.

 

As the pink and green residence he called home came more into view, Miles saw the route out of the uncomfortable conversation.

 

“Just made it to my front door, Swan. Talk to you later. Take it easy.”

 

“You too.”

 

Miles walked into his house, opening the lock with a satisfying click. It was quiet, and light from the kitchen and dining room windows gave color and form to the house. He made his way to the living room, wanting nothing more than to just relax.

 

“Hello, Miles,” Rob greeted, looking up from his book. He was seated upon the navy blue recliner beside the couch.

 

Miles hadn’t even noticed his husband until he spoke. Rob wasn’t normally home until around an hour later than him. It wasn’t a rare event, just a touch uncommon. Normally, Miles would be at Rob’s side immediately if it were to happen, but right now, he knew he was too upset to pull off much enthusiasm. He’d tell his husband of his and Regina’s encounter, but maybe a little later when he’d had enough time to process the incident himself.

 

Robert eyed him. Miles forced a smile that wasn’t even close to his ears.

 

“Hey Rob.” He gave Robert a small kiss on the cheek before proceeding immediately to the couch, his back relaxed on the cloth cushions. He ran his fingers through his hair and shut his eyes.

 

Miles thought on Regina’s words, of course. The memory played over and over again through his head like a video on loop, almost maddeningly so. Outside of his thoughts, however, Miles noticed just how noiseless his environment was. It was seldom so quiet in the house, and both occupants knew it. Usually, it was by Miles’ hand, or rather, tongue, that things would liven up. He loved Robert, but the man could be so quiet at times that he could put the dead to shame. Miles wondered if either of them would shatter the silence. He certainly didn’t care to. The events of the day prevented him from giving any topic of conversation the focus it deserved.

 

The question seemed to be answered rather quickly by his husband.

 

“Miles, what’s wrong?” Rob sat down beside him, a hand on Miles’ knee. “You’re so quiet.”

 

“Nothing,” he said the same lifeless grin on his face. “I’m just tired is all.”

 

Robert stared at him, disbelief evident.

 

“Okay, now I **know** something is wrong. The question is what is it?”

 

“Rob, I really don’t want to talk about it right now.”

 

His husband, however clearly **did**.

 

“Did I do something to you,” Rob inquired stubbornly.

 

“It has nothing to do with you,” Miles supplied, hoping that in itself would be enough to get his lover off of his back.

 

“Miss Swan?”

 

_Apparently, it’s not._

 

“Rob-“

 

“Miles,” Robert interjected, the comforting hand that was once upon Miles’ knee now in the center of the man’s ribcage. “I don’t need Miss Swan’s superpower to tell when you’re lying to me. This isn’t nothing, and I’m not about to have you sulking all night and not even know why it is that you are. Now, tell me what’s going on right now,” he commanded. Miles felt added pressure on the bones.

 

_He’s not going to lighten up on me, is he?_

_If I wasn’t feeling like such shit right now, it’d be so romantic._

_…It still is romantic._

 

“Regina called me pirate today,” Miles breathed.

 

Rob went silent. His finger dropped from Miles’ ribs and the hand that hoested it now settled back on his knee. He seemed to be searching Miles’ eyes for something, and for what exactly, Miles had no idea. Whether or not he found it, the brunet urged him to further explain what exactly had happened.

 

Miles went on to briefly summarize the afternoon’s events, the whole time feeling both more and more defeated and more and more exhausted with every word spoken.

 

“We’ve known her for years and she’s never had a bad word to say of our relationship,” Miles continued as he took Robert’s hand into his own. “She’d be the last person I’d ever suspect of homophobia. I don’t understand it, Rob. We’ve been friends for years. We babysat Henry.” Robert seemed to be trapped in silence. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you, Rob.”

 

“She really said that?”

 

“Yeah,” Miles confirmed softly.

 

“Miles, I’m so sorry.”

 

“I can’t talk with her…All this time, I thought Regina was just going through a rough phase with Henry and would come around eventually, but this… I just can’t stomach it, and it goes beyond anything that I can even begin to explain. Rob, what happened to our friend?” Rob hesitated answering and took a pause. Miles looked at him like a helpless child.

 

_Why can’t I just get over this? Swan and Rob seem to be able to just fine._

 

When Robert was at last seemingly ready with his answer, he squeezed Miles’ hand and spoke.

 

“I…I don’t know love, but whatever it is, we have to accept this for what it is and keep on living. Perhaps one day, Regina will realize the error of her ways, and perhaps she won’t, but what I **do** want you to know is that you can always confide in me. Whatever it is that you have to say about her behavior or anyone’s, I want you to tell me.” Miles nodded. It wasn’t exactly optimistic advice, but hey, the situation **wasn’t** an optimistic one. Robert put an arm around Miles’ shoulder and puller them nearer. “And above all else, there’s one thing that I’m absolutely sure of.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Love conquers all, and it shall always win out.” He stared off into the distance wistfully. Miles joined him.

 

“You believe that?”

 

“I have to. It’s the only thing that will ever guarantee me my happiness.” Miles smiled softly and further closed the distance between them, his head now atop Robert’s.

 

“I love you, Rob.”

 

“Love you too, Miles,” Robert commented as he situated himself beside him.

 

Miles took his partner’s embrace in. Just as he thought from the very moment he first fell in love with Robert all the way to today, no matter what challenges they faced, when they were together, all was right with the world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I really enjoyed writing a chapter from Miles’ point of view. It allowed me to refine a lot of his relationships and figure out what they mean to him, namely Emma and Regina, the latter of whom I realized a ton of nuance for as I was writing. 
> 
> Please, if you liked this story, leave a comment. You have no idea how much it means to me. This has been a passion project for nearly two years now, and while it may seem like I don’t have a ton to show for it, I can promise you there’s a lot of great stuff in the works. Marital Bliss has been such a fun fic to write, and I can only hope that that positivity is conveyed with the chapters I come out with! I love both the show and the characters it’s based off of, and nothing makes me happier than giving my own spin on things.
> 
> Also, don’t forget, put SNEAK PEEK PLEASE after a comment and I’ll provide you with a little bit of the next chapter! For now, enjoy tonight’s episode!


	17. Chapter 16: V-Day Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time nor any of the show’s characters.
> 
> A/N: So, I decided to cut this chapter in half, much like I did with the election. …I’m starting to realize a pattern when it comes to episodes outside of canon. It wasn’t an easy decision to make, but why I decided to make two chapters instead of one came down to one reason. I’m really bad about hiatuses with this fic if you haven’t realized. Lately, I’ve hit a ton of good luck in terms of my updating. Part of it comes from the fact that I had the basics of this chapter down very early in the story’s development, but any way you dice it, this wasn’t a difficult section of the story to write. I reached a point this week where part 1 was basically finished, and part 2, while in a good position, wasn’t quite there yet. In addition, only now did I start planning for the next part of the story in any other than a paragraph or two. As that was the case, I figured I could either give you one long update that would take a nice chunk of time to complete and may end up with a big hiatus between that and the next chapter, OR I could give you two chapters with the promise of another update much sooner. Personally, I like smaller bouts of content over time, and I think that in the long run, it will be better for the story.
> 
> Also, before you read this chapter, I want to ask of you one thing. So, recently I started going back to edit my previous work on the fic, and in the process, I completely revamped the first couple of chapters. That said, what I ask is that you GO BACK AND READ CHAPTERS ONE AND TWO because I promise you, they are SOOOOO much better this time around, ESPECIALLY Chapter One, now known solely as the Prologue. In regards to that chapter, I rewrote it virtually from the ground up, and while it doesn’t change the basic plot, I actually wrote Regina like Regina and had the scenes fit in much better with the show’s continuity! With Chapter 2 (Now Chapter 1 by that same logic), I put forth a much better image of Robert Gold and how he contrasted to Rumple. Trust me when I say that revisiting both chapters is well worth your time. I’m going to continue editing the chapters, up until this one, I think, and I’ll announce which ones were edited as well as how much so in the Author’s Note before every new chapter. Doing this has made me feel so proud of my work, and I’m finally even posting the old chapters starting with the newly edited first one to my tumblr! If you’re curious by the way, my account is theonceoverthinker, so if you want to ever talk about the show or fic or anything, we could totally message there!
> 
> Anyway, chapter time!

**V-Day**

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Flowers.

 

The air definitely smelled of flowers, roses to be exact.

 

Because the weather was mellowing out, the perfume-like scent wafted through the breeze without fear of being overpowered, leaving its presence all across the town.

 

It wasn’t right, Rumple decided as he walked, for the air to smell like flowers in the middle of winter. It wasn’t a time for growth. It was a time for the ground to heal. Granted, the time was fast approaching. The brisk winds had just started to feel less and less like daggers to the face as one walked. It was no longer bitterly cold, just generally cold. A simple scarf and moderately heavy jacket or peacoat would be all that was needed to combat the frost. The sun shined brightly, enough so that Rumple sported a small, round pair of sunglasses. Still though, Rumple thought, a flower-filled atmosphere would be better reserved for March, where it was appropriate.

 

Alas, though, this permeation via flora would continue for at least the next forty-eight hours, for tomorrow was Valentine’s Day.

 

For all the day’s promise of romance, the upcoming festivities didn’t bother Rumple much. Sure, he and Miles would be together the entire evening, and there was sure to be overly sappy romantic advances and compromising positions galore, but Miles was now more aware of himself and promised not to engage in over-the-top displays of affection in public. Besides, it wasn’t anything Rumple wasn’t already used to at this point. After all, his charade had gone on for over three months now; it was only getting easier, especially now that Rumple had put Miles’ counterpart’s shortcomings aside.

 

Since that night, everything had started feeling easier when it came to the man, in fact. Bonding with Miles, Rumple found, was so much easier with their shared past put to the wayside. Miles was charming and approachable. These days, Rumple commenced a large numbers of their conversations, whether they be about Emma’s current state of mind or even something unrelated to the curse like literature or politics or even just how their days were. After many nights prior to the curse spent alone, Rumple had almost forgotten how nice it was to talk to another person about his day. The constant stream of affection, which once felt like a nightmare from which he’d never wake, was now something he, at worst, moderately disliked and at most, could take pleasure in the reprieves from the cold they’d bring. He even found himself touching Miles of his own volition from time to time, his protests rarely, if ever rearing their heads.

 

That said, with Miles’ body being what it was, it wasn’t so difficult to force him to do that anyways. Rumple still wasn’t a fan of the idea of any part of him being physically attracted to Miles. He couldn’t settle in a similar way with that detail as he had with Hook’s past. To acknowledge that the man was actually attractive was one thing, but to actively admit that he too fell under his wiles was too much. His urges fought with him constantly on that point, but Rumple remained unrelenting and stubborn in his stance. It was aggravating, but it was an aggravation he could ignore, or at the very least try to.

 

He smelled roses again, and scrunched his face.

 

_Thank Merlin Miles doesn’t like flowers._

It wasn’t that Rumple didn’t like flowers. They smelled nice enough and had an aesthetic appeal. However, in this world, flowers were connected to a menace, a menace that, while doing so unintentionally, plagued Rumple’s thoughts more often than he would care to admit.

 

_Speak of the devil…_

 

The stench of roses and tulips only grew, and that usually meant that by now, his menace was in his line of sight.

 

Rumple stretched his head to get a better view of the road before him and there he was, the client of the moment and Rumple’s now most hated demon, Moe French.

 

Even under the curse, Robert didn’t care for Moe. The florist was generally unpleasant, and late with his payments far more times than Rumple should’ve been willing to forgive. Visiting him wasn’t at all enjoyable, but Robert generally regarded Moe not much more differently than any of his other loaners.

 

Outside of the curse, though, his feelings towards the noble were much worse.

 

Rumple despised the loathsome man with every fiber of his being. He glared the stupid look on his face. He resisted the urge to cut off his own ears every time he thought of the former king’s voice. He bit his tongue as to not comment on his terrible posture.

 

Most of all, though, Rumple hated how everything about Moe French, bad and even the few good parts that existed alike, reminded Rumple of the man’s daughter.

 

_Why couldn’t you be dead, and **she** be alive instead?_

Over the past three months, Rumple had taken to torturing the man. It was quite the reprieve for the moments when his married life with Miles was too much or any other time where he wanted to take his cane and beat someone to a pulp. That said, his methods of attacking the florist were far less violent. He spiked Moe’s rent on a whim. He nosed around the Game of Thorns office whenever he happened to pass by with nothing more important to do. He chipped paint off the walls when Moe was out, just so he could get the satisfaction out of telling him later during an inspection that he wasn’t getting the deposit back on his apartment, and seeing the man perplexed in the most horrifying way as he tried to discover who was the culprit, knowing it was not he.

Today would be another instance of Rumple’s mischief. It wasn’t a rent day for the town at large, but Rumple had a few select people that paid more than once a month, and luckily for him, Moe was one of them.

 

Moe was wearing a white baseball cap that hid his eyes and Rumple was glad that he did. Sometimes, it was asking too much of Rumple to even look at him. His eyes always darted to the other side of the room when his mind started noting the features that the man shared with his daughter. Given what day it almost was, Rumple took relief in being saved from the distraction.

 

_Well, as much as I can._

 

_By Merlin, I’ll never understand how the hell someone like him birthed such a beautiful and gentle daughter._

 

Rumple was positively itching to get on with today’s deeds. Fortunately, the last piece he needed before he could get started was waiting just on the corner of the road, one Mr. Marcus Dove.

 

Mr. Dove was a part-time worker of Rumple’s, and Robert’s in the past. When it came time to do the dirty work that actually involved the sullying of hands or any matter of heavy lifting, Mr. Dove received a call. He stood at nearly six feet with a bald head of hair and a seemingly ever-present stoic expression on his face. Rumple felt like he had his own personal bodyguard when he stood next to him. If it wasn’t for the man’s steep rate, Rumple would have no problem making Dove a full-time assistant, possibly even a collector. He either wasn’t bright enough or wasn’t curious enough to ask questions that reached further than the state of his paycheck, so he’d hardly be an inconvenience. But, as it was, Dove fulfilled his purpose and he did it well.

 

A simple array of gestures and a pocketed key were exchanged between the two before Rumple signaled his employee to get into position after monitoring Moe’s movements. French would be heading towards his truck and that’s exactly where he and Mr. Dove would be waiting for him.

 

It only took another minute before he got close enough.

 

_Showtime._

 

“Well this is just perfect,” Rumple exclaimed, greeting his client. “I’ve been looking for you Mr. French.” Moe didn’t look the least bit excited to see his landlord. If Rumple were a betting man, he’d wager that slow dancing with a cactus would be more appealing.

 

“I’ll have your money next week,” Moe grunted before the question of payment could even be asked. Rumple observed him. With his workers scattered around the space the two presently occupied, it was apparent that Moe was trying to play tough, if for no one else’s sakes than theirs.

 

_Not going to happen._

Of course, Rumple had already considered the possibility that Moe wouldn’t pay. Why else would he have hired Mr. Dove? Even if he had received payment, Rumple had planned other ways of ruining the man’s day, but he had a good feeling that the road they were going down now was the road that had always been the most likely.

 

“The terms of the loan were fairly specific,” Rumple pointed out.

 

_Of course they’re in size ten font, but don’t come crying to me just because you were too lazy to read your contract._

Moe didn’t respond.

 

Even without the flowers in the breeze, the air smelt so much sweeter.

 

_And now for my favorite part._

Rumple turned to Mr. Dove, and just barely masking a smirk, gestured him towards the Game of Thorns vehicle.

 

“Take the van,” he ordered.

 

Moe didn’t react for a moment, likely in disbelief, but when he saw Mr. Dove move towards the vehicle, a spare key in hand, he shook his head as if removing himself from a trance and rushed towards the object of both his and Mr. Dove’s intentions.

 

“Wait, no!” Moe stepped in front of the van. “Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day,’ he protested. “It’s the biggest day of-. I’ve got a grand in roses in there!” Mr. Dove, ignoring Moe’s words, started the car. “Stop!” Still in front of the car, Moe turned to Rumple. “You’ve got to let me sell them.”

 

Rumple looked at his pocket watch. Sure, he didn’t care about the time, but getting that extra rise out of Mr. French took a little bit more effort. And by that, of course, he meant making it seem to Moe like he was putting in less.

 

“I’ll let you two continue this conversation,” Rumple said, as casually as he would if he were passing a field of grass in the park. He walked into the street, passing Moe as he barely hid a smirk. Rumple could feel the warmth of a glare on his back, and he had no doubts as to where it came from; the heat from it would’ve been enough to melt the polar ice caps.

 

“Oh this is not how to do business, Gold!” Rumple could make out the scene from the reflection of a tinted glass window in front of him. Moe’s predicament was forcing him to keep his attention shared between Rumple and Mr. Dove. “You are the lowest!” Mr. Dove’s efforts to get the car suddenly became more aggressive. He drove forward, but shopped short of causing any injuries to Mr. French. “People aren’t going to put up with this!” Moe stepped aside a bit to catch his breath after one or two near-death experiences, and that was all Mr. Dove apparently needed to full commandeer the van, just as Rumple was fully across the street.

 

Finally able to catch an actual view of the florist, Rumple was treated to Moe French hopelessly looking at his vehicle that was now driving further and further into the distance, panting like a dog the entire time. Rumple allowed himself to openly smirk this time.

 

The smirk, however, didn’t last, for entering Rumple’s path was a certain despicable mayor. She had clearly witnessed what had just transpired in the streets.

 

“Mr. Gold,” Regina greeted. “That was quite a show back there.” She was impressed, Rumple could tell. Given his smugness, ordinarily he would’ve basked in the sensation. However, Regina, especially in the later years of her training, wasn’t one to be explicit with any positive feelings concerning him, unless she wanted something, that is. Wariness took over, and Rumple chose to proceed with caution.

 

“Well, Mr. French is just having a bad day,” Rumple dismissed. “Happens to the best of us.”

 

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something,” Regina stated, getting down to business quickly. It was notable considering that her pleas for assistance usually came after drawn-out speeches that were meant to do nothing but accentuate her thought process and make her appear to him as an equal player in their game. It was an admirable trait, but one Rumple personally didn’t have patience for today, and especially not with her.

 

“Yeah, and the moment you have something **I** want to discuss, you and I will have that chat.” Rumple attempted to step away, but Regina stepped in his path, leading her to standing directly in front of him.

 

“No, we’re going to do this now,” Regina said, brandishing a confronting attitude. “It’ll only take a moment,” she continued, calming herself down.

 

_Not after what you made Miles think, we won’t._

Of course, Rumple knew better than to attribute Regina’s outburst at his husband to homophobia rather than the much more obvious slip-up that it was. Regina was cruel, at times as cruel as she tried to appear to be, but there were some lines of decency that even she wouldn’t cross. Still, Rumple wasn’t about to forgive Regina for was the heartbroken look on Miles’ face that he saw when he returned home the day of the incident. Since then, Regina had been given ample time since then to muster up something of an apology to Miles, but none had come.

 

_Payback is a bitch, your Majesty._

 

Rumple feigned concern. “Is there something you need, dear? Something you need to get out in the open?” His eyes narrowed and his tone darkened. “Cause it’s gonna have to wait.” Regina was just about to open her mouth, no doubt to give what Rumple figured she thought was a clever retort when he added, “Please.” A smug grin crossed his face. “Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s still a little treasure I need to loot.” Successful in his attempts to effectively shut his adversary up, he strolled right past Regina, just as he had with Moe.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

_Forgot to defrost dinner earlier. Shit._

The realization occurred to Rumple less than a couple of hours after he had come back to the shop. He had taken his lunch at home, the very same place that had granted Rumple every opportunity to get the task done. The feather duster he had been using to tidy up the room slammed against the wooden desk in his office along with his hand as he remembered the slip up. He studied the face of a nearby clock. It was almost two.

_Maybe there’s enough time left._

Without a delay, Rumple locked up his shop and headed to his car. He drove briskly through Storybrooke’s streets, content to find that the roads were clear throughout his journey. He smirked as he passed by his storage facility, knowing that was where Mr. Dove had dropped off Moe’s truck, and where it would remain under lock-and-key until Moe brought him his money. Judging by the amount in roses that Moe specified was in the van earlier, Rumple was ready for a fairly long wait.

 

_I’ll need to remember to have Mr. Dove empty the dead roses out tomorrow._

_There’s no need for my collateral to smell like filth._

As Rumple pulled into the driveway, he took a look at his house and its gaudy exterior. Given how nice the rest of the house look, it was unfair how it looked so hideous from the outside.

 

_How did I end up with such a gaudy paint job? Pink and green? Who would ever choose those to color a house?_

He sighed.

_Regina, of course…_

With a roll of his chocolate colored eyes, Rumple continued along his way, setting his sights on the door.

That, however, is where he discovered a huge problem.

 

The door was opened.

 

Rumple, for an instant, stood frozen in place, trying to piece things together.

 

Rumple knew he had locked the door to the house when he left after lunch, the memory resurfacing quite vividly as he remembered nodding at his neighbors across the street immediately afterwards. As for Miles, he was at work, and Rumple had dropped his husband off himself that morning so he knew that was a fact. In addition, unless he was upset, Miles has a habit of letting Rumple know whenever he got an extended break, and that involved calling or texting if not showing up to tell him in person, and given how the morning had started with their lips acting as something closer to magnets than body parts, Rumple doubted that that was the case.

 

That didn’t leave many alternative theories for what had happened, and even fewer of them were good.

 

Who knew who could be in the house? Rumple had his guesses, but he knew he wasn’t about to learn the answer by standing on the porch.

 

Rumple took a deep breath, and slowly went inside.

 

The light of the sun provided the sole source of illumination for the interior. Rumple kept an ear out for even the slightest noise. The wooden floors that covered much of the house were quiet. Rumple didn’t find that comforting, not one bit. It left quite a bit of the house’s state of being to the imagination and the possibility still existed that the unwelcomed guest knew how to stalk through the area silently.

 

_Time to exercise a touch of caution._

 

Rumple came to a table by the door, one dark in color with tiny drawers that offered some amount of storage space. His movements carefully controlled, he opened the top drawer. His hands dug deep before touching something cool and metallic. Hidden beyond a few worthless papers, despite Miles’ countless wishes that it wasn’t the case, sat a small, fully loaded pistol. Rumple took the gun out and gripped it tightly in his hand.

 

_I’m not letting what transpired with Miss Boyd happen to me again._

Rumple slowly made for the dining room with his gun plainly visible. It was quiet and abandoned, with nothing but himself and his furniture present. He scanned the area for hiding spots where the perpetrator may have taken shelter for the duration of his investigation, but none that he could find bore any fruits. Rumple was nearly out of the dining room and into the kitchen when all of the sudden, he heard light footsteps.

 

He didn’t even hesitate. Before a second on the clock could pass, Rumple turned around with his gun cocked, the pistol but a foot from his face and targeted directly to whoever was in front of him.

 

Rumple himself surprised at just who that whoever ended up being.

 

_Emma Swan._

Emma, also yielding a pistol, stood opposite him. Neither spoke immediately. Rumple questioned why she was here. Rumple had nothing of hers and nothing to his knowledge warranted such a search.

 

“Sheriff Swan,” Rumple greeted, his pistol still at eye level. Emma kept hers in position as well.

 

“Your neighbor saw your front door open and called it in since there weren’t any cars in the driveway,” Emma stated calmly, yet firmly as she refused to look away or lower her weapon.

 

Rumple was right, apparently. Nothing he had done had warranted a search…as a culprit, but right now though, Rumple **wasn’t** a culprit; he was a victim. His relief at the statement was short lived. The fact still stood that he previously wasn’t home, and neither was Miles, but the front door was found open all the same. That only left one possibility.

 

“It appears I’ve been robbed,” Rumple concluded.

 

“Funny that that keeps happening to you,” Emma remarked.

 

_But by whom?_

It wasn’t as tough of a question as one would expect when asking who would rob him, despite the large pool of potential felons who would love nothing more than to ruin his day. No, this needed to be for something recent, something big, and there was only one candidate who fit that bill, his name visible to his mind’s eye in a flash.

 

_Moe French._

 

“Yeah, well,” Rumple responded as he finally lowered his gun, “I’m a difficult man to love.”

 

“Miles seems to just fine,” Emma shrugged. She lowered her gun as well and started looking around the room. “Speaking of, why don’t you give him a call and tell him what happened? I’m going to start investigating.”

 

Emma turned to look for signs of the criminal's identity and Rumple sneered as he watched her examine his possessions for indents and fingerprints. It was bad enough that Emma was poking and prodding around his home, but now Miles would need to intervene as well. It left Rumple with little faith that he would be able to conduct a proper investigation by himself, and would lead to him being forced to answer a series of questions that would do nothing but waste time.

 

That being said, even if the notion of telling Miles had not been brought up, it wasn’t like Rumple could lie about their house being robbed. Even without Emma’s presence, it would be days at most before on of the neighbors asked about the situation, and taking her presence into account, Miles wouldn’t even be ignorant for a full hour before word got to him, and even all of that failed to address the far more logical conclusion that Miles would no doubt notice their missing things immediately after returning home. It didn’t appear to be a lot that was stolen, but Miles was rather perceptive.

 

“Of course,” Rumple muttered, defeated as took his cell phone out of his pocket and started dialing. As the phone rang, Rumple put the device up to his ear.

 

“Rob,” Miles answered after two rings. “Is everything alright?” Miles’ pre-mature alarm was neither an irrational nor unprecedented reaction. Neither Rumple nor Robert ever called Miles during work unless it was for something important. Texts were the preferred method of exchanging messages between the two as they provided far more privacy than calls and the exchanges of texts allowed for Miles to seem less distracted at work than a phone call would.

 

“I’m afraid not,” Rumple answered bitterly. “We’ve been robbed.”

 

“What?” Miles’ shock and fear came out, as it usually did, loudly, enough so that Rumple created space between his ear and his cell phone to prevent his ears from ringing.

 

“Our door was found opened and a neighbor called it into the sheriff. I stumbled upon the scene while preparing our dinner. Nothing too large appears to be missing, but I can tell just from looking that things were stolen. Miss Swan and I are currently searching the scene.”

 

“I’m coming home right now.” Before Rumple could protest, Miles hung up, no doubt to excuse himself from work and maybe procure a ride home.

 

As the minutes slowly passed, Rumple stalked around his house and took inventory of what was stolen, looking for a purpose or a pattern, a clue hidden among the missing baubles. However, as he found out, none of the items correlated to each other. Trinkets off the coffee table. Vases off the shelves. A fly ball Miles once got at a baseball game. Nothing was particularly valuable. Rumple didn’t understand. It was as if Moe grabbed seemingly random items.

 

_But why?_

Rumple was now looking in the kitchen. He opened all of the pantries, until another the empty space where another one of the missing items crossed his path.

 

_Now a mug?_

 

Suddenly, a horrible inkling of suspicion flickered to life in Rumple thoughts. As Rumple considered the likelihood of its validity, he wished for it to be little more than the result of his shock-induced delusions. However, the plea did nothing to stop the idea’s fruition.

 

_It’s certainly unorthodox, but unfortunately, quite a likely possibility._

Without saying a word to Emma, who was just in the other room, Rumple stalked off and descended the staircase into his basement.

 

Much like in his shop, Rumple’s basement also housed a secret safe, hidden behind a painting of an autumn day in Central Park. Up until Rumple had gotten his memories back, it simply stored extra cash for the pawnshop and a few knickknacks that the curse had led him to believe belonged to his family. However, once he realized his true identity, Rumple began to store some precious items from his world. Nothing too magical was there. After all, he **did** still share a house with Captain Hook, and once the curse was broken, that safe might be the very first place Hook looked for ways to murder him. He may have forgiven Hook, but Hook most certainly wouldn’t forgive him, so he didn’t want anything too powerful there. His dagger, for example, was buried in the woods, as it had been for months now. Some magical ingredients were kept there though, just in case his shop was ever compromised. For his safety, Rumple ensured that the only potions in his home safe were for protecting whoever would take them, not harming another. These were kept in a box within the safe under lock-and-key, which only he possessed. He also had a set of papers inside that would facilitate travel across the world for once the curse broke like passports and false social security cards.

 

Then there was the teacup.

 

The chipped teacup.

 

It had appeared among his baubles at the pawnshop, like a diamond in the rough. It took longer to find than his dagger, over a week after he reclaimed his memories. At first, he considered keeping it in the safe of his shop, but after the Ashley Boyd incident, where not only was his contract stolen, but many of Rumple’s items both in the safe and not broke as a result of the struggle, Rumple decided the safe in his home would be safer. He never imagined anyone, even Hook, would attempt to take it away from him. After all, as he had said it so long ago, it was “just a cup.”

 

_If Moe French was going to take anything that would set me off, my top bet would be on…_

 

The thought was answered for Rumple instantly as soon as he reached the final steps of the basement.

 

The safe was open, and the door, while not mutilated, was left swinging freely, the edges badly damaged. Judging by the marks left on the locks, a crowbar or something of equal strength was used to separate the door from the rest of the safe’s contents. The painting that had previously hid everything was facedown on the floor across the room.

 

Rumple’s hunch was correct.

 

In the safe, while nothing else even appeared to be moved, the chipped cup was gone without a trace.

 

The world felt like it was turning blood red right before Rumple’s eyes.

 

All of the other items stolen had been little more than tiny decoys. Only the cup had been targeted in this robbery.

 

_French is a dead man walking._

 

Of course, Moe wasn’t acting alone. To Rumple’s knowledge, he had never heard of the chipped cup, and even if Belle had ever told Maurice about it during her period of torture, he wouldn’t have retained the memory. However, that didn’t change the fact that Moe had carried out his crime. As far as Rumple was concerned, he was just as guilty as whoever led his hand.

 

_I’ll use every last bit of influence I have in this world to get my revenge on him. I’ll make him **beg** for death, and once I get my magic back, I’ll make his punishment ten times worse than even **that**._

 

Rumple’s anger was given pause by the faint sound of a car beeping. He had no doubt that it was Miles. He must’ve been able to procure a ride home from a co-worker. Rumple didn’t want to deal with his husband at the moment, but his current circumstances left him with few options. With a sigh of exasperation, Rumple climbed upstairs, fastening the basement door closed once more meeting Emma in the living room.

 

The front door slammed open and Rumple could hear Miles as he rushed inside the house. Rumple could hear his footsteps and hitched breath as they got nearer to him.

 

Upon seeing Rumple, Miles approached, and stood so they were face-to-face. He gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You okay, Rob?”

 

“Yes,” Rumple answered. Rumple reasoned that the news of his lost cup affected him more than he realized, for Miles didn’t seem convinced by his response. Miles gave him a look that insinuated that the conversation would continue once they were alone before turning his attention to Emma.

 

“Thank you for coming, Swan,” Miles said. Emma briefly filled him in about the call she received and how her investigation had turned out so far. Rumple supplemented her information with what he knew about the items that were stolen and his confusion about their correlation. He mentioned that the thief had hit up the basement as well, but left out both the severity of the trespasser’s wrath upon his safe and the one object that was taken that actually meant something. Rumple watched Miles as he listened to what Emma and he said. His husband was upset, no doubt, but took it well enough. Every so often, he’d look at Rumple himself to see how he was feeling. Rumple fed him lies through expressions, but he could tell that Miles didn’t completely buy them by the way his features changed. He looked caught between wanting to hug Rumple and wanting to sit his husband down and get to the bottom of why he was being so secretive about the robbery. Rumple hardly blamed him.

 

“Any ideas so far on the culprit,” Miles asked when the two finished up their report.

 

“None off the top of my head,” Emma confessed. “Want to weigh in? Either of you piss anyone off lately?” her gaze pointedly veered towards Rumple.

 

“Rob,” Miles goaded, not eagerly but still invested. “Do you know who did this?”

 

_If they weren’t wrong, I’d almost feel insulted._

 

Rumple thought about whether or not to tell Emma and Miles. Of course, telling the sheriff would make arresting and punishing Moe that much easier. It wouldn’t require anything to be done on his part, but Moe would without a doubt know that his imprisonment was the result of his landlord’s involvement. In addition, going after Moe by himself, even without Emma or Miles knowing the trespasser’s identity, wouldn’t be easy. The two would be keeping a close eye on him if he did, and that would severely limit any plans he could make.

 

On the other hand, something about letting the Emma handle this made Rumple’s blood boil. To put it simply: Rumple wanted to get his revenge against the florist-turned-thief, and he wanted it badly. No matter what way Rumple cut it, time behind bars just was far too good for the likes of Moe French. No, he needed to **feel** the pain he inflicted onto Rumple for so much as **touching** one of Belle’s last mementos.

 

“I do know,” Rumple confessed. “ **But** I don’t want to press charges just yet. Not until I’ve had a word with the culprit first.”

 

“Rob,” Miles scolded. Rumple could feel Miles glaring at him, but ignored it. He could take care of him next.

 

“That said, Miss Swan, if your investigation is finished, you can be on your way. I got this from here.”

 

“No you don’t,” Emma refuted, looking directly at Rumple and keeping his gaze in a merciless hold. “This was a robbery, public menace, and this time, I did my homework. If you don’t tell me what you know, I’ll have to arrest **you** for obstruction of justice. I have a feeling you don’t want to be behind bars.”

 

Rumple sighed. All those extra hours at the station had produced results after all. Emma must have been studying up on criminal law, probably in anticipation of **his** very own movements as well as Regina’s. “Indeed not,” Rumple muttered. Emma shot him a look, and Rumple begrudgingly relented. “Alright, his name’s Moe French,” he said. “He sells flowers. He recently defaulted on a loan. A short time ago, we had a little disagreement on the collateral.”

 

“Okay,” Emma shrugged. “I’ll go get him, check him out.”

 

_She has her father’s hubris. One day, it will be her downfall._

 

“I’m sure you will,” he said calmly.

 

_Assuming I don’t find him._

 

Rumple chose to not lose hope. Just because Emma was on the case didn’t mean he was off it. He’d just have to be more…careful with how he conducted his business. Fortunately, the act of being careful was his very livelihood.

 

“Thank you, Emma,” Miles spoke. He was still visibly dismayed over the circumstances, but grateful all the same for her help. Emma ignored the praise and continued to focus on Rumple.

 

“You seem awfully relaxed for a guy whose house just got robbed,” she commented.

 

Rumple chuckled darkly. Emma stared at him, worry in her eyes. “Let’s just say bad things tend to happen to bad people.” Miles looked at him uneasily, but Rumple didn’t pay him any mind.

 

“Is that a threat?”

 

Rumple played innocent. “Observation,” he stated as if surprised that her logic would lead her to such a violent conclusion.

 

_It doesn’t change the fact that it **is** exactly that, but it’s for the best that she remains in the dark._

Emma, wary at Rumple’s comments, bid adieu to her friend before putting on her beanie, and heading for the outside world.

 

“Good luck,” Rumple wished her just before she left the house. The door slammed shut, and Rumple faced Miles.

 

_Time to get him out of the way._

 

Miles still retained the uneasy expression in his eyes. Rumple took his stub into his hand.

 

“Can you believe that this happened,” Rumple commented, false melancholy draping his voice like a blanket draped a bed. He kept his tone downhearted, but not too despairing that it would be unbelievable. Given his mood, the performance wasn’t that hard to pull off. “Robbed, again.”

 

“I…suppose I really can’t,” Miles responded. Rumple could see tenseness in his husband’s muscles.

 

“How are you doing?”

 

Miles hesitated before answering. “Troubled. The whole situation is a bit…unnerving.”

 

_Let’s see if I can use his unease to my advantage._

 

“Why don’t I help get your mind off of it?” Rumple released his grip, but looped an arm around Miles before walking them out of the living room. “I know just what will help. How about I drive you back to work,” he suggested.

 

In an instant, the couple’s movements grinded to a halt. Miles’ stub was wrapped firmly around Rumple’s waist, just as his hand was around Miles’.

 

“Rob, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Miles answered. “I’m not going anywhere.” Rumple stared at Miles, whose expressions had hardened considerably. There was no longer confliction hidden in his features, but concern and to a degree, confidence.

 

“You’re upset, I get that, but this will work. The seas will calm you; you always tell me that they do. I can take care of the house on my own.”

 

“No,” Miles responded, louder this time, as if his was an obvious one. He separated from Rumple. “I’m not the one who needs help right now, love. That’s you. To tell you the truth, nothing I’ve seen since I came home inspires confidence that you can even be left alone right now. I’m staying with you.” His tone screamed of finality.

 

Rumple bit his lip. The possibility that Miles wouldn’t be subject to his manipulations wasn’t unheard of, but he didn’t expect this much of a pushback.

 

Even so, it didn’t mean he was just about to give up.

 

“Why do that, my dear,” Rumple inquired, still feigning innocence.

 

Miles raised a brow, almost looking insulted by the question. “Are you serious?” Rumple didn’t answer. “Our house was just robbed, and to be blunt, you’re far too calm about it. You’re willing to talk to the person who stole from us? With Ashley Boyd, she was a young mother-to-be. It made sense then as to why you didn’t want to ruin her life. Moe’s a florist with a grudge against you, and I get the sense that you’d have no qualms about getting a little revenge,” he stated in a matter-of-fact fashion.

 

“Perhaps you’ve simply inspired me to be more forgiving.” Rumple tried to take his hand again, but Miles refused the gesture.

 

“Rob, I love you, but that is bullshit. And you want to know how I know that?”

 

Rumple narrowed his eyes. His patience was at last beginning to thin, and the pretense of naiveté dropped to a degree.

 

“Very well. How?”

 

“You threatened him,” Miles stated simply. “You didn’t do it directly, but Emma and I heard you speak your riddle.”

 

“Not a riddle,” Rumple muttered.

 

“Not the **point** ,” Miles continued sharply. “What **is** the point is that right now, I can’t trust that if I leave you at home by yourself, that I won’t come back to find something horrifying. So no, I’m not leaving your side until that trust returns. You can hate me all you want, but I’m not taking a chance that your anger may tempt you to do less than legal deeds. I’ve seen what you’ve done without it, and I know you’re cocky enough to think you can pull some sort of ridiculous stunt under everyone’s eyes.”

 

Rumple sneered, and looked at the ground. He knew that there would be no talking Miles out of his choice at this point. That realization left Rumple angry, partly at Miles for making such strict restrictions on his freedom, partly at himself for failing to better prepare for such an instance, and fully on Moe French for causing all of this in the first place.

 

Rumple noticed he was given a pause by Miles to respond, but he remained quiet. “I’m upset too, you know,” Miles added, much softer and gentler this time. Rumple looked up at him and saw that the shift occurred, not just in his voice, but across his face too. The lines over his forehead were no longer simply of stress, but of genuine worry. He even touched Rumple’s hand with his stub. “Our house was robbed. I can’t help but think about why someone would do this or what he might have done if you had been home alone when he came.”

 

_Why does he have to worry like a mother hen?_

 

“Told you the pistol was a good investment,” Rumple commented, attempting to lighten the mood before his husband started getting too emotional about the ordeal.

 

Miles rolled his eyes, but smiled. “In any event, trust her or not, you have to let Emma lead the search for our stolen items. That’s her job, and not yours.”

 

_Says you._

 

“You’re really not going to let me handle this, are you?”

 

Miles shook his head. “Not on your own, and not with your current intentions.”

 

“You don’t know my current intentions.”

 

“And that’s exactly what has me worried about them. Answer me this, Rob: What do you plan to do when you find Moe? And don’t tell me you plan to talk to him.” Rumple tried to concoct a lie, but he was too slow. “You can yell at me all you want, but I won’t be wavering on this, love. I know you’re angry, but I wouldn’t insist on doing this if I didn’t think it was the best course of action to take, and you know that.”

 

_Ungh. I do, unfortunately._

 

“I’m not angry,” Rumple sighed. Miles shared with him a pointed look. “Fine, I’m angry,” he confessed. “But I’m angry with good reasoning. Emma, she’s not going to find what it is we lost, and while she’s following a wild goose chase, he’s doing God know what with it…” He blinked upon realizing the enormous clue he had just given Miles. “Them,” he amended.

 

“Why don’t you work **with** her then? Go to the station, tell Swan what you know, investigate the places where you think our stuff might be, and maybe find Moe in the process.”

 

It wasn’t a bad plan, and Rumple considered it, but there was one great flaw…

 

“Because Moe deserves to suffer, and as Miss Swan said, I don’t particularly feel like going behind bars for ensuring that he gets his just desserts.” He spoke without thinking and regretted his words as soon as they came out.

 

Miles snorted. “And you’re wondering why I’m not letting you go off on your own to find him with that lovely little mindset of yours. Now, just as you suggested earlier, why don’t we get away from here and do something that might serve to get your mind off things a bit?”

 

Rumple tightened the cane in his hands. To say that he was upset would be quite the understatement.

 

French had his beloved’s cup. Merlin only knew what he was doing with it or who he was handing it off to. There was a rage in his heart so strong, he wished he could take a torch and burn down half of Storybrooke just to settle it. And Miles was standing in the way of the vengeance he wanted nothing more than to take. The fact that he had good intentions currently meant nothing to him.

 

_I don’t need to relax. I need revenge._

_What does he expect me to do? Go see a movie? Take a walk through the park? Clean up the shop?_

_Hmmm…_

_If Miles refuses to leave me in peace, then perhaps I can put some of this rage to good use after all…_

 

For the second time this afternoon, a dark chuckle escaped Rumple’s mouth and now, a crocodile-like grin grew to complement it.

 

“Indeed, let’s,” he said, his voice a combination of smug and sinister. He tightened his grip on Miles. “I hope you’re ready for some labor, because if you’re not letting me out of your sight, then I’m not giving you a break. Today’s now a deep cleaning day for the shop.”

 

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“Rob, I’ve known you as many things, but until today, I never knew you as such a slave driver,” Miles complained, cracking his back. A metal canister clanked against a wooden cabinet as a final container of glass cleaner was at last put away. Rumple had had Miles assisting him with cleaning for over two and a half hours now.

 

Well, perhaps not assisting. Supervising was a better word for what Rumple spent most of the afternoon doing while Miles slaved away, his knees pressed against the floor for a good part of his voluntary bout of servitude. He had his husband do everything from sweeping to polishing the counters from top to bottom to removing rust residue from all manner of metal baubles and knickknacks. The whole while, Rumple barely felt any guilt over it. Was it childish? Probably, but damn it, had it not been for Miles, Rumple bet that the teacup would’ve been in his possession long ago, and for preventing that, his husband deserved at least some of his aggression.

 

That said, even Rumple could admit when enough was enough and after nearly three hours spent in his office, even he was growing weary of his beloved shop.

 

“You wanted to stay by my side, these are the consequences of that choice.” Miles grinned, apparently his way of communicating that said choice was worth it. “Stop smiling,” he commanded.

 

“Nah,” Miles countered, smiling. “Besides, I prefer to bask in the company of my husband wholeheartedly, even while he’s being a wholehearted ass.”

 

Miles held the door for Rumple as the two exited the pawnshop. Hues of orange covered everything as the sun began to set. The couple looked at each other. It was getting late, and both men were getting hungry, and they each knew it to be the case for both themselves and the other.

 

“There’s a rotisserie chicken at home we could nuke,” Miles suggested. “It’s not the steak like we planned, but it’ll be fine and fast for dinner.”

 

“Sure,” Rumple shrugged listlessly. In truth, while Miles’ work in the shop gave him some level of validation, it did little towards improving his mood about the fact that Belle’s cup was no longer safely with him. Rumple was actually grateful to Miles in a way for not putting up more of a fight when it came to doing the chores. In a lot of ways, the satisfaction seeing his husband subservient to his will gave him saved Rumple from an even greater depression. Rumple sometimes watched Miles clean during the moments where the cursed pirate toiled in the office. The rhythm of Miles’ movements soothed him, and occasionally, Rumple would take note of how well toned the man’s body was. Once he realized that was happening, he was quick to order his husband into the other room for the next chore, lying about the job being done well enough, but for a moment, while he was there, silently working save for the occasional spirited hum that he could even hear when the man was on the other side of the curtain, Miles’ presence lulled Rumple a bit.

 

The two set off for home, a silence that could be described as both comfortable and uncomfortable between them as the car progressed through the streets. Rumple, despite getting an afternoon off, felt tenser than he had since he first learned he was married to Hook in this world. Now that they were on the way back to the scene of the crime, everything about Miles faded into the background and his rage against Moe came back full force.

 

_How **dare** Moe French steal Belle’s cup? I should’ve gotten rid of the bastard long ago. Once I’m free to do as I please once more, I won’t make that same mistake again._

 

Without much of an outlet for his anger, Rumple’s distress conveyed itself through his hunger, leaving him downright starving by time he and Miles returned home. Rumple made a dash for the door as soon as he exited the car, Miles forgotten as he went inside and headed into the kitchen. He started warming up their food just as he heard his husband walk through the door. Rumple could feel Miles staring at him, not necessarily angry, but concerned. The heat from the man’s stare was touching his back like an ant being fried by a magnifying glass. Steps began to vibrate off the floor like chimes on a metronome. Rumple was starting to plan for the possibility of a fight.

 

What he **didn’t** plan for was a comforting stub on his shoulder, and only that.

 

Rumple turned around. Miles was right in front of him, his eyes soft and his hold lazy in its grip, but meaningful in its intent.

 

_He may be stubborn, but I can’t pretend that he doesn’t love me._

 

As Rumple looked Miles in the eyes, his indignation at his situation melted away, and all that mattered was right in front of him.

 

Rumple forced a smile for Miles’ sake, and Miles, undoubtedly seeing its falsehood, pulled him in for an assuring hug. Rumple settled in it and let some of his weight settle on Miles, his limit finally reached with frustration at the day’s events.

 

_I need a break from being angry, just for a minute or two._

 

They stayed in the embrace for a long moment before finally breaking apart. Miles’ stub stayed atop his husband’s shoulder.

 

“Want to tell me what was up with earlier,” he gently inquired. “You don’t have to, but I think it could help.”

 

“No,” Rumple replied simply. Miles stared at him, clearly hiding his dissatisfaction as best as he could with a neutral face. The microwave started beeping and Rumple slunk out of Miles’ grip to get his food, leaving the other man to just stare at him. As Rumple claimed their dinner from the possession of the cooking device, he felt the continuous heat from the man’s stare.

 

_He really is doing his best with me._

 

Feeling guilty for his evasion, Rumple took a deep breath, turned to face Miles, and ‘confessed.’

 

“I was just furious that we had yet another break in,” Rumple lied, “and… Moe, or whoever did this…they stole something important from me.” He placed the chicken, on the kitchen table and grabbed two plates before cutting in with a nearby knife.

 

Well, some may call it cutting, but as Rumple sliced into the juicy bird, ripping apart limbs and bones alike indifferently, he admitted that mutilation was the far better descriptor.

 

_Be lucky for my husband tonight, French, for without him, you’d make this chicken look lucky._

 

“Good to see you’re getting the anger out,” Miles teased.

 

“Apparently, taking it out on this chicken is better than taking out on Moe French. I beg to differ, personally, but to each their own.” Miles seemed to be too stunned for words, and Rumple, electing to ignore that fact, began to dig into his meal, with Miles eventually following behind. They ate in relative silence, Rumple only noticing Miles pausing to give him pregnant, observing stares. For Rumple, who sat on the receiving end if the stares, it was exasperating to say the least, and yet another straw to add to the metaphorical camel’s back. First, he’d been condemned to be without his sole reminder of Belle. Then, he’d been denied the sweet sensation that getting revenge on the man who had taken it in would bring. Now, he had to endure judging eyes from the very man who put him through all of it?

 

_I find it a bit ironic that the man discouraging my revenge, behind the curse’s façade, hides a man who is just as consumed by it._

 

Miles gave Rumple another stare. Rumple was getting to the point of acknowledging them when all of the sudden, Miles beat him to the proverbial punch.

 

“Hey, Rob?”

 

“Yes, Miles?” Rumple forced himself not to grit his teeth as he spoke. A fight, he reminded himself, for as good as it would make him feel for the moment, would come back to bite him shortly afterwards. So he settled on simply responding neutrally, with a gaze that was mere steps away from a glare.

 

“What did he steal from you?”

 

Rumple fought the urge to bite his lip.

 

“There were many items stolen,” Rumple stated, dodging the question. Miles gave him a disbelieving stare. A fork dropped, and Rumple, in a move that he hoped would lessen his obligation to answer Miles’ inquiry, got up to go replace it. A hand appeared on his shoulder just as he was heading back to the table.

 

Miles stared fearlessly into his eyes. Rumple reasoned that he’d probably be impressed if he weren’t so annoyed by the very action.

 

“I’m quite aware of that, love, but what I mean to say is that, from what I saw, Moe mostly stole mere knickknacks, nothing that either of us would miss that much. What I’m asking is what was the item that he stole that sent you into such a frenzy that I worried for his safety. You even said so yourself. ‘They stole something important from me,’” Miles repeated. He sighed. “I know I said you didn’t have to tell me anything, and that remains true, but you’re hurting, and I want to know why so I can help you heal.”

 

_Well, of course, **now** I have to tell him._

Robert would’ve told Miles, simple as that.

 

Rumple tried to pretend it was the only reason why he’d be so forthcoming.

 

_Can he stop being so genuine for just a second?_

_It would sure make staying covert easier._

 

“It was a gift from an old… classmate,” Rumple lied. “She and I were close, so I kept it downstairs in my safe as something to remember her by.”

 

“What happened to her?”

 

“She died a long time ago,” he said, muttering his way through the answer in a matter-of-fact fashion. “Threw herself off a building. She had a bad life at home. Her father treated her like she was nothing more than the means to an end, and the only friend she had turned out to be a monster.”

 

“Oh, Rob,” Miles cooed, taking Rumple into his arms. Rumple stayed quiet, and didn’t resist the hug. In fact, he had no trouble furthering it by his own hand. They sat down after the embrace ended, and began feasting once more. The two ate, again in silence. When dinner was at last over, the couple elected to ignore doing any more than throwing the excess food in the trash and sticking the dishes in the sink, to be cleaned another day. Rumple sat on his side of the couch, and Miles joined on the other one. They turned on the news and watched a little bit. The weather report had just finished when the television’s screen went dark and another question came from Miles.

 

“So, what was the item?”

 

Much to Rumple’s surprise, he didn’t feel the need to lie. The cup could do nothing to him, at least nothing he’d admit outright, and whatever harm Hook could potentially do to it could be undone easily enough with his magic once he had it back.

 

“A-a cup,” he admitted. “It was a cup.”

 

“A cup,” Miles repeated, almost as if he couldn’t quite believe it. Rumple understood Seldom was something as seemingly mundane as a cup considered a symbol of love, or even camaraderie.

 

Rumple bit his lip as he began to develop his lie. “It was a special cup to both of us. One day, I had her over to work on a project we were assigned on together. She had just finished a cup of tea and she was on her way to the sink when it slipped out of her fingers, causing it to chip. She was embarrassed about it, so to make her feel better, I laughed it off as a joke. She eventually joined in, and for a while, we had a very nice time together. We began meeting up occasionally, and every time we were by me, she would insist upon drinking out of the cup.” Rumple smiled. For a brief moment, he swore his nose caught a whiff of a beautiful head of brown locks.

 

He frowned, suddenly aware once more of where in fact Belle was now. “…She died not long after.” Rumple could never forget the pain that lurched in his chest when Regina informed him of Belle’s fate. Surely, being stabbed through the heart with his very own dagger would’ve been a more pleasing experience than reliving the day that his prodigy came to him with the news of her demise.

 

“I don’t know what to say,” Miles muttered, his hand reaching out to touch Rumple’s. Miles’ body inched closer until the hand that was once connected to his now looped around Rumple’s shoulder and pushed their bodies close.

 

“There’s nothing **to** say,” Rumple shrugged. Miles didn’t turn away nor pull back, but did provide the quiet that he surely thought Rumple needed to process things. Rumple was thankful for it, in truth.

 

_Belle’s cup is lost._

_Without it…Belle…her spirit…they’re both…_

_Gone._

 

“I miss her,” Rumple said absentmindedly, his guard lowered amidst the comfort of the embrace. “I miss her so much.” Rumple let his head fall into the space inside the crook of Miles’ neck.

 

“I know you do, Rob.” Miles proceeded to lessen the distance between them even further, and Rumple felt more and more of his being covered. “I know having her cup pilfered hasn’t been easy. I-I just want you to know that I’m here for you.”

 

Had that come from anyone else, it would’ve been trite and insincere. From Miles, Rumple knew that it was absolutely true.

 

“Thanks,” Rumple said sincerely. He wrapped his arms around Miles and took deep breaths. Between taking the final steps to seeing the curse enacted and being imprisoned, it never felt to Rumple like he ever had the chance to properly mourn his and Belle’s love. Right here though, with Miles by his side, he was finally able to truly do so.

 

“Could you tell me more about her,” Miles requested. Rumple smiled. This was how Miles always helped Robert mourn: by asking him about happier times with his loved ones. It turned time spent moping over his lost loved ones into celebrations of their lives.

 

“Where would I even begin,” Rumple mused. “She was kind. There was always forgiveness in her heart, no matter the crime committed against her.”

 

Miles hummed, signaling a desire for more information.

 

“She was well-read. You’d have to take a crowbar to her hands if she had a book in them and you wanted her attention.”

 

“A nerd,” Miles snorted. “Just like you!” Rumple gave him a pointed, yet admittedly not too serious stare. “Well, what else,” he urged.

 

“How about I tell you a story about the time that she tried to alphabetize a spice rack?” Rumple proceeded to spend the rest of the evening before bedtime telling Miles stories about Belle at his request. He told Miles anecdotes upon anecdotes about her bravery and kind heart, stories that left them both in awe. The words flowed from his mouth like waters from Niagara Falls. Even as Rumple spoke though, he tended to his words, staying alert as to make sure that they were reflective of the school time setting he established. College was the time he settled on early on into his stories.

 

Rumple had to admit, it was nice talking about Belle again. She had been his glimmer in the darkness, as he once put it. Thinking about her once more, helped to, if nothing else, made it **seem** like that light was coming back. That wasn’t to say everything was better, not by a long shot. Rumple still felt lousy. He didn’t doubt that he’d feel any less so the next morning – hell, it probably would return before he went to bed, but as he and Miles spoke, and as recollections of that bright spot in what was otherwise a past as black as coal came about, that lousiness went away.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you liked Part 1 of my Valentine’s Day spectacular!!!! If so (And even if not), reviews are always appreciated, and PLEASE, if you haven’t already, go back and read the first couple of chapters! They’re really good this time around!!!!
> 
> Excited for Part 2? Leave a nice, juicy comment (And I’m talking like an actual comment with a bit of substance, not just a request for faster updates, okay?), and write “sneak peek please,” and I’ll give you exactly what you want!
> 
> Have a great day, and enjoy tonight’s episode!!!


	18. Chapter 17: V-Day Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time nor any of the show’s characters.
> 
> A/N: 
> 
> …I didn’t really know what I was going to say here. At first, I was going to apologize for the delay. Then, I was going to rant about the lack of reviews (Though I decided to hold in my salt, I do make a mini plea at the bottom of the page). 
> 
> However, something changed. 
> 
> About a month and a half ago, I got a life-changing review, and it had little to do with this story itself, but all the world to do with who posted it. 
> 
> Rose_Blue99.
> 
> She was so inspired by my fic that she decided to give her own take on the basic idea!
> 
> I’ve since taken her on as a protégé of sorts, and I’d be a pretty crappy mentor if I didn’t advertise her story here in my home for all Golden Hook/Captain Crocodile shippers! So, hit up AO3 if you aren’t there already and check out her story, “Of Curses and Even Darker Spells.” It moves a hell of a lot faster than my story does, gets updated more, has a pretty cool OC, and a fun timeline that like our favorite show, jumps around from place to place! If it’s a great time you’re after, head on over there now and check it out!
> 
> So, that’s it for my A/N, at least for now. Enjoy the new chapter!

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**V-Day Part 2**

 

Force of habit stirred Rumple the next day from his dreamless slumber. His internal clock, bred by day after day of waking up at the same time, had him instinctively able to do wake up by himself on most weekday mornings.

 

Rumple, who laid on his back, looked around. Miles was still asleep, using the left-hand side of Rumple’s chest as a pillow. Snores vibrated against his skin, and facial hair tickled him, poking his flesh through the loose shirt he wore. Though Rumple wasn’t cold, he appreciated the bout of warmth that Miles’ presence provided there. His left arm was draped around Miles’ shoulders, the spot his body found to be the most comfortable.

 

He then looked over to the nightstand. There was no alarm clock to greet the couple today. Despite their normal schedules, Miles, still evidently wary at the prospect of leaving his partner alone just yet, decided last night to take the day off. Rumple attempted to protest the action by lying about the state of his anger, but Miles proved to be too stubborn and clever to be deceived or otherwise deterred from his cause.

 

Due to the absence of the alarm clock, it didn’t take long for Rumple to relive the tragedy of the previous day through his memories, erasing any of the goodwill that the night before had bestowed upon him. He stifled a grunt as to not wake his bedmate and hit the back of his head against his pillow before staring up at the ceiling.

 

_The chipped cup is missing._

_I’m still a failure to Belle and her memory._

_And Moe French is out Merlin knows where in this town, as free as a bird._

_As usual, life’s about as fair as rigged crane game._

 

Before he realized he was doing it, Rumple’s fingers began to lightly scratch at Miles’ forearm of their own volition. Upon registering what he had done, Rumple pulled back his fidgeting limbs, a means to undo his damage.

 

Alas, it was too late.

 

“Tickles,” Miles murmured, smiling before a loud yawn escaped him. Rumple was certain that Miles was to wake now, and a wave of motions throughout the bed confirmed his suspicions. There was more movement, the stretching of muscles, the wiping away of bedhead, and the pulling of biceps and triceps against sheets until finally, the two of them were at eye level.

 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Rob,” Miles said before yawning once more. Rumple tried to force a smile to counter the one Miles sported, but he could tell even as he performed the charade that his melancholy was too much for the grin to mask.

 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Miles.” Rumple placed a kiss on Miles’ lips, one that lasted longer than a peck, but was nevertheless far shorter than their usual ones.

 

Miles’ cheerful disposition dropped upon receiving the kiss and once it was completed, he put his stub on Rumple’s shoulder. Rumple let his fake smile falter.

 

“I’m sorry it had to start on such a sour note,” Miles apologized.

 

“Not your fault,” Rumple answered curtly. The second reminder of his misery had Rumple inwardly seething, but less at Miles, the man’s hindrance on his search for the cup aside, and more at the fact that the sole memento of his time with his beloved was gone without a trace.

 

“No, it’s not,” Miles agreed, “but you’re miserable all the same.”

 

Rumple shrugged. “How else am I supposed to feel? The one part of her legacy that was mine to protect is gone. It was my job to honor her.”

 

“You haven’t failed yet.” Rumple leered at him, skeptical.

 

“What would you call it?” Rumple questioned, putting in no effort to disguise the bitterness in his voice.

 

“Hitting a bump in the road,” Miles stated, as if it were obvious. “In case you’ve forgotten, life is full of them.”

 

“No kidding.”

 

Miles placed his hand onto Rumple’s cheek, warming the skin like a hearth. “That’s why you have people who love you in your life. People like me. Believe it or not, I just want to help you be happy.”

 

The comment left Rumple helpless to do anything but sigh.

 

_There he goes again, making me feel like the most important man in the world._

 

As fake as he knew they ultimately would be, endless compliments, born at least somewhat out of sincerity, were hard to tire of.

 

“You always make me happy,” Rumple responded, a smile, now genuine, growing. “That is, when you’re not yawning in my face, at least.” Miles snorted at the jab and held Rumple tighter, pressing their foreheads together in the process. Miles grinned once more, even brighter this time than before giving off a deep sigh.

 

“I promise you Rob,” Miles said, growing serious, “not only that we’ll get your cup back, but that I **will** help you honor your friend’s memory forevermore.”

 

“Thank you,” Rumple breathed. He didn’t believe in a positive turnout of their situation as strongly as Miles did, not fully, but the way Miles proclaimed his decoration of his intent so confidently, armed with his compliment from earlier, left Rumple with no interest in protesting the outlook. Allowing himself a minute to get lost in his fake husband’s eyes, he grinned and pulled Miles closer.

 

The two leaned in for a kiss at the same time. Rumple facilitated the rougher parts of the kisses, at first initiated by Miles, but replaced in leadership by Rumple shortly afterwards.

 

_Ungh. I will never understand how he’s so good at kissing, but I’m not about to be bested this time._

 

The low buzz of a vibration drummed off of Miles’ cellphone, ending the moment’s intimacy in the same way that a thunderstorm ends a day at the beach.

 

Rumple and Miles smiled shyly at each other while they pulled apart before Miles reached for the device. Ordinarily, texts were dealt with quickly and privately so more pleasurable activities could continue on romantic occasions such as this. However, after waiting for a moment and then another, Rumple’s suspicion began to grow that that wasn’t going to be the case this time.

 

Miles turned to look at Rumple, beaming.

 

“Swan sent a text. She’s asking us to come by the station. Says she’s retrieved our stuff.” He took Rumple’s hand. “Looks like that sour note today was to start on just turned sweet. Shall we head over?”

 

Rumple nodded. The two got dressed and ready before packing into the car and starting for the police department. The whole time there, Rumple found himself skeptical of just how simple the resolution of this case seemed to be, despite the outward veneer of optimism he put on for Miles. Moe French wasn’t particularly bright, but one would think he’d have a better place for the cup than somewhere that Emma could find so easily.

 

_Something’s going on here. There’s no way this story will be wrapped up so quickly._

 

As they entered the sheriff’s office, Rumple noticed that Emma’s desk was fully covered by a lumpy white tarp.

 

_What could this be?_

Right next to the desk stood Emma herself. She was grinning, somewhat smugly as she greeted the two.

 

When both Rumple and Miles were but a foot from Emma’s workspace, Emma swished off the tarp. Underneath it sat an array of objects, all of which Rumple recognized as originating from his house.

“You’re welcome,” Emma gloated.

 

Rumple fought back the urge for an eye roll and instead gazed at the table in pursuit of the cup as Miles thanked his friend jovially. The first glance revealed no sign of the cup, but there were many items atop the table, so Rumple kept examining all that was there.

 

“You were right,” Emma said as soon as Miles was finished, her words clearly directed towards Rumple. “The man Moe ripped you off. It was all still in his place.”

 

“And the man himself?” Rumple asked, absentmindedly. He continued to search. The table was packed with antiquity and paraphernalia of various natures. That said, the cup would’ve stuck out, and so far, it was nowhere to be found. As the chances of finding the object of his desire looked slimmer and slimmer, everything on the table began to resemble mere garbage as opposed to pieces of his and Miles’ home.

 

“Closing in on him,” Emma answered, albeit not as proudly stated as the report she gave the two moments ago.

 

“So, a job well half-done,” Rumple pointed out, resent surrounding his every movement. Miles gave him a pointed look that Rumple disregarded.

 

“What he’s trying to say is thank you,” Miles interjected. It was apparent to all in the room that as well meaning as the endeavor to dissuade the tension was, it was feebly received at best.

 

“In less than a day I got everything back,” Emma retorted, ignoring Miles attempt at diplomacy. It was clear that she was both proud of the work that she had already accomplished and more than a little insulted that it was still being questioned so audaciously. Rumple saw her looking at him out of the corner of his eye as he examined the contents of the table a final time. “Is something wrong?”

 

_It’s not here._

_French must have hidden the cup away from everything else._

_All this meaningless effort, and he just sent her on a wild goose chase._

_I knew this was a waste of time._

 

“You recovered nothing,” Rumple sneered. Emma and Miles stared at him, stunned at his bluntness. “There’s something missing,” he elaborated, for as loosely as it could be said that he did. Without sparing the table another glance, Rumple turned around to leave.

 

“It’s not in here, Rob?” Rumple didn’t answer, allowing his present activities to speak for themselves.

 

“I’ll get it when I find him,” Emma said, defensively.

 

_No, I’m not doing this a second time._

_You had your chance, Miss Swan, and as I expected, you failed at it._

 

“Not if I find him first.” Rumple stormed off. A rushed, yet sincere apology from Miles to Emma as well as a promise to pick up their things later could be heard from behind him before footsteps of increasing volume and speed began tapping against the tiled floors of the station and replacing the conversation. The sound finally stopped by the time Rumple was closing in on the police station’s exit. Only this time, it was indicated not only by the absence of clacking shoes, but by his left wrist being tugged firmly, but not roughly, away from his body. When Rumple turned around, Miles’ piercing blue eyes were staring straight at him, unyielding in their presence or intensity, and his sole hand was clutching Rumple’s wrist.

 

“Rob, you’re not going after him,” Miles stated, his voice littered with the same finality it had yesterday.

 

“I don’t remember asking your opinion on the matter,” Rumple mumbled. He pulled his arm away, but Miles didn’t ease up on his grip. The two stayed connected. Rumple glared at him.

 

“That’s because this isn’t up for debate,” Miles shot back. “I’m not letting you land yourself behind bars doing whatever the hell you deem as an appropriate punishment to him.”

 

“I’ll be careful,” Rumple dismissed, looking away from Miles before attempting to free himself once more. Still, he had no luck.

 

“Indeed you will because you’re not going after him.” The repetition had Rumple’s eyes practically rolling out of his head.

 

“Why can’t you mind your own business?” Miles grunted as Rumple made for another escape, but Miles’ persistence proved to be too much and he remained trapped.

 

“For one thing, we’re married. Your business **is** my business. For another thing, I’ve seen you commit worse for far lesser crimes, and I’m not about to sit idly as it or God forbid something worse happens again.” That got Rumple to lock eyes with Miles once more. Rumple had assumed that the arson incident was long past, as it had hardly come up since their quarrel had ended. Now, he couldn’t help but wonder if that was truly the case, or had the incident colored Miles’ perception of him.

 

Rumple especially hated how the idea of that made him feel like he was just punched in the stomach.

 

“Oh, here we go!” Rumple exclaimed, his arms flinging around in exasperation, at least as much as they could, given that one was remained bound to his husband. “And here I thought you had forgiven me for that.”

 

“I did forgive you, Rob, and still do, but when you start talking about giving French his ‘just desserts’ and stalking off to find him with murder in your eyes, I’m not about to pretend that your determination doesn’t also act as the devil on your shoulder.”

 

“Miles,” Rumple gritted through clenched teeth as the loudness of his voice increased two fold. “I can handle myself, thank you very much.”

 

“Forgive me for doubting that.” Miles mimicked Rumple’s growth in volume.

 

“I don’t need your help!” Rumple was now shouting.

 

“You very clearly need **someone** to stop before you end up murdering him!” So was Miles.

 

“No, Miles! No, I don’t! Moe French stole from me, and he deserves to pay for what he’s done, for **everything** that he’s done,” Rumple roared, his arm slamming down like a judge’s gavel.

 

At the exact moment that Rumple had stopped talking, everything about the fight had changed.

 

Miles, while his grip still didn’t allow for an escape, paused and started gazing into Rumple’s eyes. Unlike other times, though, it was not in the way he would often do when he was being affectionate with his lover, but rather, as if he were studying Rumple like a meaningful painting.

 

_What is he doing **now**?_

 

Rumple turned away, positively fuming as he struggled to figure out how to get his freedom back.

 

_Why does he have to be so stubborn about this?_

Just as he recognized the previous day, Rumple couldn’t help but comment to himself on the borderline comedic nature of their situation. The pillages of Captain Hook were as high in number as were the populations of some of the villages he plundered. Alternate identity or not, Rumple couldn’t believe that he was getting a lecture from **him** of all people.

 

Rumple started to think of the worst thing he could say to Miles to get him off his case. It had worked before. Even in this state, Miles had to have some breaking point. Regina had clearly hit it with the slur she accidentally gave off.

 

However, he couldn’t exactly use that, now could he?

 

Before Rumple could think on the notion for one moment longer, Miles’ bout of motionlessness came to an end, and he spoke.

 

“She, your friend, she was Moe’s daughter, wasn’t she?”

 

Rumple thoughts stopped dead in their tracks. Suddenly, boiling blood ran cold. He felt like a deer caught in the headlights.

 

Miles was right in a large sense. In the Enchanted Forest, Belle was the progeny of Moe, or rather, King Maurice, as he was called back in their land. Here though, Rumple didn’t know the state of their relationship. Perhaps, just as he himself was bereft of a wife and son here but cursed with the memories of having such relations, so was Moe with his sole child.

 

“You’d be correct,” Rumple replied darkly.

 

“That explains it.” Miles pursed his lips as he waited for Rumple to say something.

 

“It does,” Rumple agreed, giving a slow, painful nod. He felt a flicker of hope as he turned to look at Miles again. “As you now know the truth, will you at last let me go after him and give him the revenge that his crimes deserve?”

 

“No,” Miles declined, his insistences as firm as ever. Rumple looked at his husband, torn between feeling woefully surprised and bitterly not.

 

_I should’ve known he wouldn’t understand._

“Now hold on, Rob,” Miles continued, his voice and stub urging Rumple to listen, and the hand, still at his wrist, ensuring that he would have little choice but to. “I may not have known your friend personally, but last night, I learned quite a lot about her. Think about her and what you told me yesterday. Doesn’t seem to me like the type of woman who’d approve of you hunting another man down, even in her name. Does it seem that way to you?”

 

Rumple took in Miles’ words. Of course, Belle was not violent, and she would never wish harm of any kind upon anyone. She hadn’t even wished it upon the very Dark One who imprisoned her. That begged the question: Despite everything her father put her through following her return from the Dark Castle, would Belle honestly call for his head? Of course, Rumple wanted to believe that the answer was yes. At the very least, it was what Moe deserved.

 

But, as Rumple reminded himself, the question that Miles had posed wasn’t what **he’d** approve of; it was what **Belle** would’ve wanted.

 

_Belle._

 

Belle, Rumple reminded himself, the same person that begged for the life of a common thief, refused to let one of her childhood friends capture and torture the very man that took her away from all that she loved, ignoring the fact that doing so meant that she wouldn’t be saved, and even gave away her freedom to save everyone she cared for, up to and including a fiancé that she didn’t even love.

 

 **She** was who Miles was asking about.

 

Rumple knew there was only one answer to his husband’s inquiry.

 

…That didn’t mean he liked giving it.

 

Miles must have inferred Rumple’s decision, for he released his hold on Rumple’s wrist and instead took him wholly into his arms.

 

“I know it doesn’t feel right,” Miles whispered into his ears, “and I know in a lot of ways that it’s not fair, but trust me, Rob, it’s for the best.”

 

“You better not be wrong.” Rumple didn’t say it menacingly, but it was no less intense in the way it was said.

 

“I promise you that I won’t be.” As their hug diffused, Miles interlocked his and Rumple’s fingers, and gently started leading them the rest of the way out of the station.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Lunch today had the same tone that plagued dinner the night before. Things remained tense, that was to be sure, and given the looming problem that still hung above the couple’s heads, the day was far from salvaged. Rumple looked into a salad Miles had convinced him to buy on the way home. It looked fine enough, but Rumple had no desire whatsoever to eat. He doubted that it would do anything towards making him feel better, despite Miles’ claims to the contrary.

 

He kept himself composed, but in truth was still angry--no--enraged.

 

Just as before, there was such a strong temptation to give into his anger and hunt Moe down, no matter the cost to his cursed identity and profile. However, two people presently stood in his way. The first of course, who was quite literally sitting right before him, was Miles. He’d been unwaveringly persistent thus far in his attempts to not let Rumple have his violent way, and Rumple had the feeling that that wasn’t about to change anytime soon. The second, occupying an untouchable, unquenchable piece of his heart, was Belle. Miles’ speech at the station had struck a cord with Rumple. In no reality would Belle ever accept him harming another, no matter the crime they committed. It was both his and Belle’s greatest point of contention and the thing that made him love her the most, and nowhere was that truer than now.

 

Here he was, his revenge denied, and not only by the very man who had wished for his happiness, but also the very person he sought it for in the first place!

 

Rumple released a sigh, one louder than he expected it to be. Miles gave him a meaningful stare, as if to express sympathy for his plight. Rumple returned the look for a moment, but then looked away, back at his untouched lunch.

 

“It’s not going to bite, Rob,” Miles said.

 

“Well, that makes two of us.”

 

“Eat,” Miles asserted, this time more insistently.

 

Rumple sighed again. “Fine,” he muttered as he lifted a fork with spikes covered in greenery towards his mouth.

 

They continued on, eating in silence.

 

However, Rumple’s thoughts were anything but.

 

Still too frustrated to let his troubles be resigned to oblivion just yet, Rumple secluded himself into his own revenge fantasies, basking in the artificial retribution that he would never have. Over the course of a half hour, he imagined Moe French screaming in vain for help whilst gagged and bound in the back of the Game of Thorns van, watching with eyes wide with terror as Rumple burned his body with hydrochloric acid, and fighting off tears that ran like waterfalls after Rumple shoved his cane up his ass.

 

At the same time though, Rumple could hardly enjoy the dreams that he had created, for the constant reminder that none of his fantasies were true were no more than a sobering call back to reality away. The truth was, at the end of the day, that Moe continued to possess Belle’s cup, and with the way things were going, that was unlikely to change just yet.

 

And that made Rumple angrier than just about anything in the world.

 

_Forget anyone else in this blasted town! Once the curse breaks, **he’ll** be my first target!_

_…But for now, loath as I am to admit it, he’s winning this day._

An unflattering grunt escaped Rumple as he dug his fork once more into his salad.

 

“Use your words, Rob, not your caveman voice,” Miles said, his tone half comedic and half akin to the nagging of a schoolteacher.

 

_Really? You’re going to complain about this too?!_

It was bad enough that he couldn’t go after Moe French, and his loss had taken shelter in his thoughts like a parasite, but now Miles had taken to treating him like a child.

 

Rumple’s patience had just about run out.

 

“There’s just no pleasing you, is there?” He didn’t say it loudly, but given the quietness of the room before, the impact was still the same, and Miles was left with his mouth agape.

 

Rumple stood up, abandoning both his lunch and Miles. He didn’t have much of a sense for direction, but only a desire to get away from his partner, and presently, it was more than enough to lead him forward.

 

He had seconds to decide where to go, and without a second thought, he had his destination in mind.

 

The basement.

 

It was the scene of the crime. Even more than that, the basement was his private workshop, one of only a select few rooms in the house that was truly his and his alone. Miles seldom came down and interrupted his toils while he was down there. Gods willing, he could get a moment’s peace. At best, he could hunt for clues, but at the very least, he would be allotted a second's privacy from what he felt was a husband who had become far too overbearing for his own good.

 

The room was just as he left it yesterday. The painting that used to disguise the safe was face down on the floor, just as it was the day before, and everything apart from the cup had remained untouched. Rumple moved the chair by his desk in the back of the room so that it was facing the safe and sat down.

 

_Where did Moe take it?_

He took another glance at the painting that sat a ways away from its usual spot.

_Better yet, **how** did he even know where to look?_

 

The thoughts remained dominant in Rumple’s thoughts, even as he heard a very familiar tapping noise descend the staircase. He didn’t turn his head as Miles entered the basement. For the first moment or two after coming down, Miles said nothing. Rumple knew why. Miles had never seen the safe behind the painting before. He knew there was a safe downstairs, Robert had told him about it in the past, but Miles clearly expected it to be more of a lock box than one that was hidden behind something as innocuous as a painting. It was not only fair to say that he was a little surprised to see a safe exist so broadly when he was ignorant of it less than ten minutes ago, but also that he was connecting the dots as to where the cup had been until yesterday.

 

Rumple didn’t know what to expect Miles to do or say now. What little of Miles’ footsteps that he paid attention to showed no signs of apprehension as they moved towards the basement. That told Rumple that his husband was aiming to come down here to make peace. However, the discovery of the safe’s true location could very well change things.

 

Rumple breath hitched, ever so slightly, as Miles turned to him.

 

“The safe’s unexpected,” Miles started. The tone wasn’t accusatory, not at all. The words kept the door open, in a sense, optimistic in a way towards Rumple’s being more forthcoming with information. The comment was practically trying to make light of the situation.

 

Rumple stayed silently stagnant, his gaze inflexibly remaining focused on the safe in question. He was relieved to see that Miles’ wish to reinstate their peace remained intact, but damn it all, he wasn’t willing to forgive so easily just yet.

 

“Rob,” Miles continued, softly. Rumple didn’t even flinch as he spoke. “Let’s get out of here.”

 

“No,” Rumple said with the same finality that he had been treated to from Miles since yesterday.

 

Miles remained oblivious, whether willingly or not, to the similarity of the situation. He began to move closer to Rumple, and with every step he took, Rumple’s anger only grew more.

 

“Being here isn’t helping. It’s just making you upset.”

 

It was that push, as intently innocent in its conception as it was, that sent Rumple over the edge.

 

“Am I not allowed to be?” Rumple snapped, exasperation bleeding off his face like blood off of a fresh paper cut as he finally looked at his companion. “Miles, I said I wasn’t going to track down French in the way I wanted to, not that I was going to stop thinking about what happened. Like it or not, this hurt me, and knowing that I can’t do anything about it, not even get angry, makes it all worse!”

 

“Rob, I get it. I was robbed too, but-”

 

“No, Miles,” Rumple interrupted. “Not like me, you weren’t. It’s like you said last night! You had a few knickknacks taken from you, nothing you couldn’t replace or get over without much thought! **I** lost something irreplaceable, something from the woman I **loved**!” Rumple knew he couldn’t retrace his steps on that one, but his fury pushed him to continue on. “And that…that haunts me. You told me we’d honor her memory. Well, **this** is how I’m doing it! By protecting the last piece of her that I can hold onto, because it was **stolen** , and it’s taking everything in me to **not** hate you both for stopping me from getting it back.”

 

Rumple waited for Miles to shoot back with something, his breaths heavy and the atmosphere tense. He was willing to deal with a fight. It would do his low profile no favors, but for Belle, it was worth it.

 

Miles’ face was unreadable and quiet. It reminded Rumple vaguely of the look he was given after yelling at Miles after the Ashley Boyd attack. And just as the aftermath of that incident, it left him similarly worried for what would come next.

 

As Miles finally took a breath before speaking, Rumple felt his breath leave him like a slashed tire.

 

“Rob,” he began. “I knew what had happened to you, to her, cut a deep would in your heart, but I never thought about how just badly it had shaken you, that you wouldn’t be able to let it go, and that was foolish of me.” Miles sighed. “I know anger to be a comfort. I’ve told you about Connor, and how I wrapped myself in misery and senseless actions like a blanket, but this…this is different. This…this **can** be solved. Your cup **can** be found, and while it can, but isn’t, of course you’re entitled to be angry and frustrated and confused because what else could you be? You’re right, and I’m sorry. I know nothing about what you’re going through right now, and until yesterday, I didn’t even know anything about **her** at all, but even despite that all, I could’ve been doing better to help you overcome it. I still can, if you’d let me. We can’t pursue him ourselves, but we can come up with theories for Swan. Would that be okay?”

 

For a moment, Rumple was left thunderstruck. Of course, the fact that there was no ensuing fight couldn’t even being to be described as a huge relief, but it was more than that. The apology was short, but what it spoke to had played such a large part in Rumple’s life that hearing those words lightened the burden on his heart like little else had ever been able to do.

 

Miles had understood his rage.

 

He saw the darkness of Rumple’s heart, and he didn’t silence it. There were limits to what he’d allow Rumple to do with that darkness, but there was an understanding of something being inside of him, something that couldn’t and wouldn’t go away, and Miles accepted that, and accommodated it. He could count the people who did that for him on one hand.

 

With pursed lips, Rumple nodded. Miles pulled up a chair to the space directly beside Rumple and afterwards, the two proceeded to investigate every angle, nook, and cranny that the small safe provided over the next hour and a half. In the midst of searches, Miles asked Rumple questions about things he kept in the safe and who knew about them, but given the secrecy of both it and its contents beforehand, the discussion went nowhere fast. Rumple had created more than a couple of lies to cover for the fact that he had what was until now a secret safe hidden in their basement, the contents apart from the cup that it held, and why he hadn’t told Emma about it when she had come to investigate the robbery. Thankfully, it didn’t take much effort for Rumple to cover his schemes up.

 

That said, despite devoting their full attention to searching and reasoning, nothing came of it, and as the chime of the clock from upstairs echoed through the house, signaling the passing of time, they remained at square one.

 

Rumple looked to his oddly silent husband. Miles had spent the past ten minutes looking straight at the safe, seemingly laser focused on it, with not a word leaving his vicinity all the while. Rumple at first didn’t pay it much mind, his own theories occupying the space in his head. Now though, upon realizing that that was all that Miles was doing, Rumple felt compelled to know what had taken his husband into what was essentially a trance.

 

“Miles?” He asked. A hand was placed on said man’s shoulder.

 

“I have to wonder, Rob,” Miles said, his eyes unwavering from his chosen focal point. “I don’t know Moe that well, but he’s not what one could call bright, am I right?”

 

“You would be.”

 

_Understatement of the decade._

 

“And he never knew of this instance with the cup?”

 

Rumple shook his head. “I never told him, and I genuinely believe that she didn’t either.”

 

“Then how would he know to take it? And furthermore, how would he even get into our house? Nothing was broken, and we both had our keys on hand during the time of the crime.”

 

“Those are good questions, questions I myself have been trying to figure out too.” Those very questions settled into the space between Rumple and Miles during a comfortable silence. It was Miles who next spoke up after the pregnant pause, his gaze finally back onto Rumple.

 

“How about Regina?”

 

Rumple raised an eyebrow. He found it odd that Miles of all people was outright accusing anyone, even following his argument with Regina from the other week.

 

“You really think our dear old Madame Mayor could be behind this?”

 

“Honestly, with the way Swan talks about her, I wouldn’t banish the thought,” Miles replied. “Not to mention, she’s the keeper of the keys in this town, so to speak. Hell, we may have even entrusted her with a key at some point over the course of our friendship. Besides, we know for a fact that she definitely has a bone to pick with us.” Rumple could hear the pain in Miles’ voice as he spoke his final sentence. Regina’s words had clearly not ceased to hurt him, and that made Rumple all the more willing to believe what was already a rather plausible theory.

 

“Astute,” Rumple commented. “You may be right. The question now is what should we do about it. We have no definitive proof other than the fact that there **was** a break in, and without that, Miss Swan wouldn’t have been able to even help us this far.”

 

A second question emerged, though Rumple ensured that it went unsaid: What was he going to do to punish Regina for the cup’s theft, should Miles’ suspicion turn out to be fact? Of course, Moe would still be punished. He had obviously stolen it, among other items from his and Miles’ home. But Regina was quite the different. Traditional torture would do little to harm her. Even with his “please” clause, it wouldn’t take long for news of her assault to get back to him, and with her influence over the law enforcement in Stroybrooke, Rumple knew he would find himself behind bars before he even knew it. However, Rumple was no less confident that he would get the job done, one way or the other. Regina, after all, wasn’t infallible. Her position of power just meant that Rumple had to be craftier in how he designed his revenge, and if there’s one thing Rumple prided himself on, it was being crafty.

 

“It’s a pickle, I’ll give you that,” Miles conceded, “but nothing we won’t figure out together.” Miles slung an arm around Rumple’s back and tenderly pulled him in close. Rumple leaned into the touch. It was nice and smooth, and it made Rumple want nothing more than to just stay in the cozy cocoon that was Miles’ embrace. Rumple never understood how someone who worked with fish all day had such a perfect body, especially when his coworkers’ appearances were so much closer to ordinary, but during moments such as these, Rumple decided not to question it, preferring to simply enjoy his well-toned company. It was tempting to ask to be touched more when Miles was holding him so sweetly. Rumple allowed himself to stroke Miles’ hand with his own, digits going up and down the middle of Miles’ palm. He was only a little ashamed to admit that he liked the smile he received for his efforts. Seconds later, Miles joined in, and both men began tickling the other with caresses through nimble fingers, smiling as gentle touches got through in ways where words failed. Given everything else that had happened, this moment was shaping up to be the high point of Rumple’s day.

 

Then, Miles leaned into Rumple’s ear and spoke.

 

“I promise, I won’t let you down, Rob.”

 

The sound of his cursed name was all it took for Rumple to remember himself once more.

 

_What am I doing?_

_You’re not Robert Gold. Don’t forget that this is an **act**._

Rumple at once separated himself from Miles, only a bit gently. Miles must’ve taken notice, for his eyes examined the distance created. He looked hurt, but not too much.

 

“Miles, I’m sorry,” Rumple quickly apologized. “Just…not right now.” Miles gazed at him sympathetically.

 

“I understand, love. I really do.” Miles lessened the space between them and kissed Rumple on the cheek. Rumple gave an appreciative smile. Miles grinned back.

 

Rumple bit his lip, feeling bad about hurting Miles’ again. “It feels like today’s been going on forever,” he commented before releasing a fake sigh. Miles looked at him empathetically before suddenly, the expressions on his face changed. From experience, it appeared to Rumple like Miles was coming up with a plan. He waited patiently for Miles to reveal exactly what it was.

 

“Here’s an idea: why don’t you take a nap?”

 

The question caught Rumple off guard, and it begged him to ask one thing:

 

“A nap?”

 

“Yes,” Miles confirmed. “A nap.” The way Miles smirked told Rumple that this was a suggestion not born of recent animosity for the separation Rumple had created but a moment ago.

 

That said, it didn’t make Rumple and less confused.

 

“I’m sorry, exactly **when** did I start looking two years old?”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with a nap,” Miles said. “Look, you’ve had a rough couple of days. I wouldn’t suggest we stop searching if we had something more to work with on this case with than we currently do, but the face is that we don’t.” Rumple failed to answer. Even giving Miles’ reasoning, how could he expect Rumple just to take a nap? “You know I’m right about this, Rob,” Miles went on to encourage, “and you know I wouldn’t be suggesting it if I wasn’t.”

 

Miles hadn’t left Rumple with much choice other than to reevaluate his position on the matter. What exactly **was** he going to do today? His and Miles’ investigation had led to little as far as leads, at least when it came to ones they could actually summon the evidence to convict. Helping Emma personally capture Moe brought him no joy without the promise of a more personal method of payback for his sins, and Miles had all but eliminated that possibility. With the cup still outside his grasp, he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything worthwhile in his shop, and with his husband but a breath away, it wasn’t like he’d be able to read any magical texts.

 

…At the very least, a nap could rejuvenate him.

 

_I can’t believe I’m actually going to do this._

 

“I guess it couldn’t hurt,” Rumple shrugged, muttering. “Are you going to join me?”

 

“No,” Miles declined, sadly. “I’ve got a couple of things I want to take care of first. Don’t know if you saw it, but Moe broke a bit of glass in the living room that I’ve been putting off cleaning up, but maybe I’ll catch up later.” He kissed Rumple’s temple. “Now, get some rest.”

 

A foreign feeling fluttered through Rumple’s chest as Miles kissed his forehead, one that felt queasy, but in a way so unlike the queasiness Miles’ kisses used to bring. It made him want to stay by Miles’ side, or even beg for Miles to join him upstairs.

 

Or second to those, get another kiss.

 

Rumple, having more than his fair share of emotional shifts towards all manners of romantic gestures between himself and Miles, pushed all acknowledgements of what he had just felt aside as he headed upstairs.

 

When Rumple entered his room, the bed, sitting in its usual spot seemed so…alluring. Rumple wasn’t surprised by this fact. With revenge on his mind, sleep had done little else but elude him until now, giving it to him in only sparse amounts the night before.

 

_I suppose there are worse things to be denied. It just means that I’ll make Moe’s life that much worse after the curse breaks._

 

Rumple slipped into the bed and shifted onto his back. His eyelids, which had already been growing heavy, started to instinctually close. He let his breathing ease into a sleep-like state, and his consciousness followed suit shortly after.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Rumple awoke from his nap with a loud yawn. He checked the clock in the corner of the bedroom, and its hands formed a straight and vertical line, answering the most commonly posed question that it faced. He took a deep breath. Air flew in and out of his lungs as smoothly as an albatross through the skies.

 

Miles was right.

 

He was in fact feeling better. As Rumple rose from the bed, he felt easily ten pounds lighter. His limp was bereft of pain entirely and his back was free of aches.

 

_That husband of mine will never let me live this down._

 

_Speak of the devil…_

 

A quick search led Rumple to discover Miles on the couch in the living room. The television in front of him was muted and his cellphone was pressed up against his ear. With a furrowed brow, he listened to whatever it was that came out of the receiver. Once Rumple was spotted, Miles signaled him over and held him at his side. Rumple couldn’t make sense of what was being said to Miles, and Miles remained silent the entire time, making the mystery all but impossible to figure out. He made a mental note to ask Miles later.

 

It took another minute for Miles’ business on the phone to end. Upon putting the phone down, Miles smiled and put his lips to Rumple’s head.

 

“That nap looks like it did wonders for you, love. You’re even more irresistible than usual.”

 

“I won’t pretend otherwise,” Rumple smirked, and let his hair flip just over his shoulder, gently getting hair all over Miles’ forehead in the process. Miles returned Rumple’s smirk with one of his own as his face proudly sported the chocolate-colored locks.

 

“Admit it,” Miles goaded. “I was right.”

 

Rumple scoffed teasingly. “I’ll say you weren’t wrong and leave it at that.” He maneuvered himself so that he and Miles were face-to-face, clearing and all of his hairs off of Miles. Miles’ face now clear of Rumple’s locks, he kissed him. Rumple returned it, and not without a sizable amount of fervor. They continued to sit side-by-side, leaning against one another as they enjoyed the first amicable quiet moment in their house in nearly two days. Miles took Rumple’s hand into his, and Rumple, without thinking, held it back.

 

“So,” Miles said, turning to Rumple. “I know we normally don’t exchange gifts, but recently, I saw something you’d like, and I couldn’t help myself.”

 

Despite the truth in Miles’ statement, Rumple was barely shocked.

 

_Leave it to Miles to be a break traditions like kids break piñatas._

 

“If you insist,” Rumple said, shrugging his shoulders. Miles separated himself from Rumple and went into the kitchen. Rumple listened in for the ruffling of tissue or wrapping paper, but none reached his ears. Seconds later, Miles called out to him, still in the other room.

 

“Close your eyes!” He cried out.

 

Rumple, in disbelief, processed Miles’ command.

 

_First he wants me to nap, and now he wants me to close my eyes?_

_I’m not sure how far off my accusation earlier actually was._

 

“Are you serious?” Rumple asked.

 

“You bet I am! Now close them!” Rumple rolled his eyes, but obliged, choosing to keep any further commentary about the subject in his head. He continued to listen, if only to gain some idea of what was about to happen. There were footsteps and then a pause, and Rumple assumed Miles was scrutinizing his eyes just to make sure the surprise wasn’t ruined prematurely. Rumple could feel the couch shift and a body touch his as Miles sat down beside him again. Finally, after a few seconds, Rumple felt a light bit of weight on his lap.

 

_What is this?_

“Okay,” Miles said slowly. “Open ‘em up!”

 

Rumple snapped his eyes open and looked downwards at the bauble in front of him.

 

And then he gaped, breathless and wordless at what he was seeing.

 

Sitting on his lap was none other than Belle’s chipped cup.

 

Rumple blinked a couple of times just so he could make sure he was seeing clearly.

 

But there, still right in front of his eyes it was, in all its porcelain glory.

 

He gingerly reached for the teacup, holding the trinket in his hands so he could examine it while his fingers caressed it like a spouse caresses their lover’s face. The porcelain was in the same pristine condition that it was when he last saw it, and the paint wasn’t faded or otherwise damaged in the least, apart from the obvious chip at the rim.

 

Rumple looked up at Miles, who had been watching his reunion with the trinket with gentle anticipation stretched all over his features. Although flabbergasted, Rumple forced himself to speak, if only to quench his desperate need for information.

 

“Miles, how-where did you find this?”

 

“Remember my suspicion from earlier today?” Rumple nodded. “Well, I decided during your nap to do a little bit of hands-on investigating.” Just to make his point that much clearer, Miles winked straight at him.

 

_Oh my God…_

_Did he?_

 

“You didn’t,” Rumple exclaimed incredulously. His husband only smirked in response. Rumple unconsciously smiled as Miles went on.

 

“Mayor Mills was at her office, and Henry was at school, leaving their home ripe for the plundering. One quick visit into Regina’s study was all it took.” Miles then shrugged, as if it the break-in was nothing more than a grocery run.

 

Rumple’s shock had yet to fade.

 

“So, that nap you suggested, that was-?”

 

“A diversion,” Miles confirmed. “Clever of me, wasn’t it?”

 

A direct answer never came to that question. Instead, Rumple grabbed Miles by his shirt collar then and there and pulled him in for a kiss without a second’s hesitation. He sighed into the embrace as the warmth of his husband’s clothes and skin heated up his body. Miles, of course, returned the affection ten fold, and Rumple took all of it in with welcome arms. As the two kissed, they were positively wrapped up in each other, and neither was in any hurry to reclaim their former distance.

 

“Thank you,” Rumple breathed in between kisses, incredulity still tethered to both his voice and actions.

 

“Well,” Miles said, just before going in for another kiss, “I **did** make a promise earlier.”

 

“We can most certainly consider that promise to be fulfilled.” Rumple pushed their lips together once more.

 

When they finally broke for air, Rumple gazed at Miles. His icy blue eyes were positively shimmering at they looked back at him, the perfect compliment to his broad grin. Both were born of the strongest love that he could summon, and Rumple was well aware of that fact. Rumple returned the expressions and the task ended up being as simple as blinking.

 

The two sat together for a while, the chipped cup now sitting upon the coffee table in front of them. Rumple made a mental note to find a new home for his returned treasure first thing in the morning, but for now, he was confident, especially now that Emma was on high alert regarding their house, that they would not be robbed again.

 

_Speaking of mental notes…_

 

“Miles, who were you talking with on the phone earlier, when I came in?”

 

“Oh,” Miles said, reclaiming the memory. “That was actually a voicemail from the maître d’ at Tony’s. She was confirming our reservations for tonight.”

 

_Damn it all! I almost forgot about Tony’s._

Tony’s was easily Storybrooke’s top option when it came to fine dining. The restaurant had ambience in spades, for it was decorated in warm colors with chairs and tableware that fit the style of the place like a glove. Some of the town’s greatest chefs were employed by Tony’s and made good use of. The food imprinted itself on one’s tongue the way ink imprints itself on a piece of paper. You could remember a spoonful of their bisque or mousse forever and in the best way possible. Service there was quick and professional, as all the staff went through arduous training for weeks before they could serve at the restaurant, even during their slowest hours. Robert and Miles had spent many a Valentine’s Day there, and for good reason. Miles made it a priority to make the reservations the day they became available to make a couple of months ago.

 

“I actually wanted to talk to you about that,” Miles went on. “Before I call her back, I wanted to know if, given everything that happened today, if you still want to go. I know today was a bit of a mixed bag and most of it wasn’t great, but it **is** Valentine’s Day, and we do have the reservations, after all.”

 

Rumple felt not an ounce of contention for what he was about to agree to, for there was nothing to have contention for. He looked Miles in the eyes, and lazily took his hand. “I want to go,” he said. “We always have a good time there, and now that the cup’s been found, we can just focus on celebrating the holiday.”

 

Miles grinned. It almost looked like he was surprised by Rumple’s answer, but said nothing about it. “Okay! You got it, Rob.” Miles held the small of Rumple’s back, and Rumple slinked into the touch comfortably as the two hugged. Rumple and Miles then returned to their room to get ready for the evening ahead. Rumple washed up first and put on a black suit with a red tie.

 

Miles needed to use the shower next, so Rumple decided to wait downstairs for him and finish a book he was reading. As he walked back down the stairs, his path crossed the entrance to the basement, the last known location of Belle’s cup, until recently, that was.

 

_Belle…I did it._

_Your spirit can now rest in peace._

_Even if it’s away from mine, it’s probably best this way._

_…For you, at least._

 

Rumple often fantasized what his and Belle’s lives together might have been like had he found her before she fell under her father’s wrath. The dreams didn’t last long before reality settled in, but they were always a pleasant distraction while they lasted. In them, Belle would come back to the castle, where they would spend the duration of time between then and the casting of the Dark Curse. Of course, he never told Belle that the curse was coming, choosing not to frighten her regarding things she couldn’t control. He pictured rainy days where he would spin piles upon piles of straw while she would sit at and adjacent table or upon a nearby fainting couch, reading a book that would have her eyes melting into the pages with warm delight. Sometimes, he’d imagine them walking through the greenery in the field behind his castle, holding hands all the while as they let the hot sun settle on their bodies. Some of the dreams weren’t as…wholesome. He was only human, after all.

 

Well, not quite.

Right now though, Rumple just thought of Belle being Belle. He thought of how Belle poured him his drinks, her eyes narrowed as she tried to get just the perfect amount of tea and honey into each cup. He thought about how it would sometimes take as long as an hour just for her to decide what book she would read next, even asking Rumple a time or two for his opinion. Rumple could never decide whether he preferred when she asked questions or when she didn’t, debating whether or not seeing the curious sparkle in her eye as she tried to make sense of a mystery was better than hearing the perfectly-toned sound of her voice grace his eardrums as it begged for answers to questions that she could only being to know how to ask.

 

Rumple sat down, listless as he thought of what might have been, the book he was planning on reading now a forgotten prospect in a sea of futures that would never exist. Sitting where he was now, with the gateway to a reunion with Baelfire ready to be opened any day now, Rumple couldn’t say that he had all that many regrets aside from the obvious one of having lost his son in the first place. However, the thought that he had, by his own hand, deprived himself of one who may be his one and only True Love tended to stand out as one moment in time that he would’ve definitely handled differently.

 

“Hey Rob,” Miles called, startling Rumple as the voice of his husband broke him from his fantasies. “Are you almost ready to go?”

 

“Just a second,” Rumple responded. He sighed.

 

_Alas, the time for dreaming is done, and the time for moving forward is now._

Rumple rose from his chair and straightened his tie before leaving the den to meet up with his husband.

 

Miles was waiting by the front door, and Rumple stooped in his tracks as soon as Miles entered his sights.

 

_The man certainly knows how to freshen up._

Miles wore a powder blue button-down shirt that highlighted his eyes perfectly. The shirt sat underneath a navy blazer with matching pants and black shoes. His hair was brushed back and his stubble was well groomed, the scent of his aftershave cloaked well by his favorite cologne. It was the first time Rumple had seen him dressed this well since the curse broke and Rumple was loath to admit that Miles didn’t fail to impress.

 

“I know how to clean up quite nicely, don’t I? I can already see that you agree,” Miles teased. It took Rumple a second to realize that while studying Miles’ appearance, his jaw had slackened. Rumple swallowed his blush and playfully rolled his eyes as he regained his composure.

 

“One day, you’re going to engulf this very town with that ego of yours.” Miles’ grin brightened and he interlocked their fingers.

 

“Maybe,” Miles admitted, “but for now, we have dinner reservations. Shall we head out?”

 

Rumple combatted Miles’ grin with one of his own.

 

“Let’s.”

 

With that, Miles held the door for him, and the two began their date.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Moe French helped himself to another bottle of water. He was crouched in an alley and his next scheduled pickup would be here in about ten minutes.

 

Why was he hiding in such a scrupulous place, rather than his store or home?

 

Because Robert Gold had made him a man on the run, that’s why.

 

…Well, if Moe were being honest, he did that to himself. An employee had told him that the sheriff’s office was on high alert for him now that the robbery had been discovered and his name had been tied to the crime. After that, Moe had gone on the lamb, avoiding open roads and anyplace where the long arm of the law would be in reach. It had been over a day since that had happened, and while he was miserable, he was surviving. He’d accept the consequences of his decision to flee his punishment tomorrow, but damn it, he had a business to run and keep intact before he did! So he bunkered down and hid wherever he could as the police tried and tried again to scope him out.

 

Today was Valentine’s Day, and he was up to his forehead in orders. Now though, it was late, and he only had three destinations left before his holiday’s worth of purchases were at last completed:

 

The Three Bears Day Spa,

The Animal Shelter,

And Tony’s.  
  


()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Reviews. They’d be nice. Look, I don’t want to beg again, but I got practically nothing last chapter, and it’s pretty hard to justify writing a full story of this caliber when no one is letting me know how they like it. Commenting is good, and I promise, if it’s more than just a couple of words, I’ll respond! You can even get a little sneak peek if you write one with a level of substance.
> 
> With such a great offer, how can you refuse? So, what are you waiting for? Go send a review my way and then go hit up “Of Curses and Even Darker Spells.” You won’t regret either endeavor!
> 
> Have a good one, and I hope to see you both in the comments and in the next chapter!


	19. Chapter 18: V-Day Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time nor any of the show’s characters.
> 
> A/N: What a season so far, am I right? I’m enjoying it! Henry and Cinderella have great chemistry, Lucy is super adorable, the old characters were faded out of the series in a clever way considering the harder circumstances, and Roni is pretty kickass too!
> 
> …Did I forget to mention something?
> 
> …Oh yeah.
> 
> THE ROGERS/WEAVER DYNAMIC!!!!! 
> 
> RUMPLE AND HOOK ARE BUDDY COP CO-WORKERS!!!
> 
> THIS SEASON IS BASICALLY GOLDEN HOOK CHRISTMAS AND I LOVE IT!!!!
> 
> …I’m just a squeezing bundle of happiness right now. Just go enjoy the chapter!

**V-Day Part 3**

 

Tony’s, as Rumple had come to expect, had been in top form tonight. One would think there would be at least a small drop in quality given the high traffic that Valentine’s Day tended to cause, but there was none to be found, and Rumple knew better than to even doubt that it would remain that way.

 

Rumple and Miles’ evening had so far been going well, as well as any of their best dates ever did. The two were seated in a cozy area tucked in the middle of the restaurant. The table, while leaving more than enough room for their food, was intimately comfortable, and both men’s sets of feet and ankles were touching. Despite his usual trepidations, Rumple had no problems with their closeness, for it allowed for him to take Miles in fully.

 

_He truly is something special._

 

Rumple still couldn’t believe it, even over an hour later.

 

Miles had retrieved the chipped cup for him.

 

Just knowing that left a small part of Rumple shaken to the core, but in the interest in not losing himself to his emotions, he brushed that part and the sensations that it brought off like a piece of lint on a shirt. It was still there, ignorable, but in the same way that someone would ignore a hangnail. It was present, but distant, and for now, it was the best Rumple felt he could do.

 

“Love, you simply must sample this risotto.”

 

Rumple glance up from his meal and gazed at Miles. Miles held a fork with the very dish he just seconds ago praised only a few inches from Rumple’s nose. Rumple, with only a small blush upon his cheeks, opened his mouth, allowing Miles to push the silverware the rest of the way in. He hummed in delight as he tasted the risotto. It was indeed as good as Miles suggested it would be and then some. Just as Miles pulled the fork away from him, their server approached.

 

“Anything I can do for you, gentlemen,” she asked.

 

“Everything is perfect,” Rumple answered. Miles nodded at the server, and grinned at Rumple from across the table.

 

Dinner had progressed pleasantly. With the anxiety of the cup’s robbery now gone, Rumple finally found himself able to relax, and Miles was certainly helping see to it that he did. The two kept the conversation light. The break in, for the first time since it happened, was fully put out of Rumple’s mind. He was instead invested in discussing the new construction projects that were taking place all over town and the next movies they would go see rather than how to torture his enemies. Moe French had become a problem to be tackled another day.

 

Eventually, the conversation slowed to a comfortable lull, with both men focusing more on finishing up their meals. When the waitress finally took their emptied plates away, Rumple and Miles looked at each other, allowing a comfortable silence to pass. Rumple couldn’t help but notice the tenderness in Miles’ smile and the shimmering of his eyes as he stared.

 

_Just what **is** on his mind?_

 

“What?” Rumple asked, relaxed.

 

“Nothing,” Miles shrugged, just as relaxed. “I’m just glad to see you so happy.”

 

“You do make it easy,” Rumple said. The feelings he sought to suppress earlier came rushing back all at once with a vengeance. He knew he had to say something, and the words ended up being far easier to come up with than he could’ve ever hoped for them to be. “Thank you again for getting my cup back.”

 

It was true. On some level, even beyond the initial surprise of reclaiming his most cherished treasure came a certain level of shock.

 

_And he was the one who told me to sit back and let Emma do her job…_

_What a hypocrite you are, Miles._

_Not that I’m complaining right now._

 

Rumple scoffed playfully. “I still can’t believe you did that.”

 

“What?” Miles joked rhetorically, more like a sitcom character than anything.

 

Rumple shook his head in a mix of exasperation and wonder. “After all that talk about not going after Moe or breaking the rules!” Miles simply looked at Rumple, as if to ask him ‘Are you serious?’

 

“I didn’t have a blood lust against its captor. **You** did. Besides,” Miles continued, “it’s as you said before. Without evidence, we wouldn’t have been able to get Emma to do anything, and by the time we could get enough evidence, Regina probably would’ve hidden it away somewhere we couldn’t reach.”

 

“Even then,” Rumple countered, “you could’ve been hurt or caught! Valentine’s Day would hardly be as romantic from opposite sides of a cell in the sheriff’s office. I can’t imagine Sheriff Swan’s menu for felons includes risotto.” Miles snorted at the comment.

 

“But I didn’t,” he argued. Then he winked. It was odd to Rumple how just one noticeable blink did so much to bring attention to his eyes. “Nice to see how much you’d care though,” Miles teased.

 

Rumple rolled his eyes and fought the urge to chuckle. “I hate you,” he moaned, smiling all the while.

 

“No, you don’t,” Miles retorted, a smile drowned in charisma on his face.

 

Rumple sighed. “No, I suppose I don’t.” He then shook his head again in much of the same way that he did before. “Still, thanks. I can’t even begin to tell you how much it meant to me.”

 

“How much **she** meant to you, you mean,” Miles remarked. The statement took Rumple aback. Immediately, he felt the backlash of his words from earlier this afternoon. He questioned how dumb he could be, telling of his love for Belle to his **husband** , fake or otherwise, and more importantly, someone who could become an enemy with nary a moment’s notice at anytime. Rumple didn’t even know how to begin cleaning up the mess he had now created for himself. However, upon observing Miles more closely, Rumple saw that he didn’t look the least bit displeased or upset as he said it, nor did he now as he perceived Rumple reacting to his words.

 

“Rob,” Miles continued, his eyes looking deeply into Rumple’s. Rumple was quick to pick up on the serious tone the conversation was now taking. “If you and your friend were…more, you **can** tell me.” Rumple was left bewildered. He, for sure, didn’t know if he could do the same were the roles reversed, and here Miles was, stating it with such conviction that Rumple just had to believe him. And how could he not when it Miles spoke so assuredly and with that sparkle in his eye that Rumple had only recently noticed?

 

_How does this man exist sometimes?_

 

“We,” Rumple started, attempting to find just the right words to finish his thought off with, “tried giving us a chance once, but it didn’t work out well. I knew we wanted to be together, but there were compromises we weren’t quite ready to make then. And I wish that, on some level, I could’ve done more.” Miles’ expression stayed neutral. He seemed neither happy nor sad about that news. What he instead did was take Rumple’s hand into his and gave it a supportive, gentle squeeze. Rumple thanked Miles with his eyes, and Miles signaled a ‘you’re welcome’ right back at him with his before finally smiling. “Thank you for tonight, Miles. Being here, being able to talk about her…being with you…it helps. It helps so much.”

 

It no longer hurt to admit that he meant what he had said fully.

 

“I’m so glad, love. Are you happy?”

 

Rumple, still smiling, gave a nod. “I am.”

 

Miles reached over once more and squeezed his hand before placing a soft kiss upon each of his knuckles. “That’s all I want for us, Rob. I love you.” Rumple felt a light fluttering sensation in his chest, and only put a slight bit of effort into pushing it aside.

 

“And how about you?” Rumple asked without thinking. Miles raised an eyebrow.

 

“Me?” As Rumple caught up with himself, he came up with a fast lie to cover for his unintended slip up.

 

“Well, you said that happiness was all you wanted for **us**. So, tell me: Are **you** happy?”

 

_After getting my cup back, I should at the very least assure myself that he’s having a good night as well._

 

Miles laughed, almost as if he were astounded that Rumple was even asking that question. “Of course I’m happy! I’m here in this most exquisite restaurant with my fetching husband.” Rumple scoffed. It was a fight they often had. Neither Rumple nor Robert had ever believed themselves to be attractive by any conventional means, but Miles was nothing if not persistent in his argument that he was.

 

“Miles, I-“

 

“No, no! We’re not starting this! You’re **so** beautiful, Rob. Don’t deny it.” Rumple folded his arms and leered at his husband, who peered back at him unwaveringly.

 

“How?” Rumple challenged.

 

“You’re well spoken, intelligent as they come.”

 

“Nothing for my looks,” Rumple commented. Miles looked at him pointedly, and Rumple contested it with a raised eyebrow.

 

“I was going to get to them, but you cut me off.” Miles winked, and Rumple smirked right back at him.

 

“Get to it, then.”

Miles was quick with his answer. “Your body is so smooth, it makes velvet jealous.” As he spoke, Miles’ fingers caressed Rumple’s hand. “And your hair is soft enough to make my pillow seem hard by comparison, and so, so nice. I could run my fingers through it until they fall off and be satisfied.” Rumple could see Miles’ eyes drift from Rumple’s and they instead settled on his long locks.

 

Rumple grinned. “Go on.”

 

Miles smirked back. “No compliments for me,” he inquired with mock hurt.

 

“Like you need it,” Rumple retorted. “You already know you look good.”

 

“Come on, Rob. It’s Valentine’s Day,” Miles goaded. “One little word of praise for your handsome husband who worked so hard to give you a good night?” Miles bat his eyes teasingly.

 

Rumple scoffed. “You’re muscular. I feel like a pool noodle next to you.”

 

“You’re not,” Miles opposed.

 

It was now Rumple’s turn to raise a brow. “Really?”

 

“There’s muscle in your arms and torso. Though it’s hidden from the naked eye, especially under those suits you’re so fond of, I can feel it when we’re close.” Miles’ grin grew. Rumple instinctively touched one of his triceps. Sure enough, when his hand enclosed around the arm, the bulge that he felt was hard and firm. Rumple liked it, both feeling some semblance of physical strength apart from those he possessed with his magic intact, and knowing that someone had noticed it. “Speaking of eyes,” Miles said, ready to continue on.

 

_He’s going to compliment my **eyes** now?! Now he’s just getting ridiculous._

 

“Miles,” Rumple interrupted, holding back a chuckle as effectively as he could. "My eyes are brown. How do you intend to compliment them? They’re mud colored!”

 

“Hey! Mud has minerals that clear the skin.”

 

Rumple, at a loss of what else to make of Miles’ words, laughed. Miles joined in soon after and the two got lost in their little joke. It was hard to ignore Miles’ charm, and even something that was as silly as that, when said by him, wasn’t without its positive impact. Such spirits Rumple found to be contagious, but it now went without saying that Miles was among that population.

 

The minutes passed and there they sat, laughing together and adding punch lines and fun jabs with every passing word, and Rumple unabashedly loved it. It felt like such a great wrap up to what started as such a bad day. Had the evening simply ended this way, Rumple would’ve looked back on it with naught but fondness.

 

However, in an instant, all of Rumple’s revelry disappeared, like fireflies in autumn.

 

It was all because a target came into view. Right in front of Rumple he stood, delivering a bouquet of roses the size of a toddler.

 

Moe French.

 

The man’s face was coated in sweat, and Rumple presumed the rest of his body was covered in it as well under his thick, brown coat. Belle’s featured glistened under the perspiration, and Rumple fought the urge to growl at how he didn’t even deserve the **honor** of sporting them.

 

In front of Rumple, Miles sat, his back to Moe, still blithe, with his eyes light as balloons.

 

Suddenly, everything was clear to Rumple.

 

Miles couldn’t see Moe. However, **he** could.

 

Now was his chance.

 

“I’ll be back in a second, Miles. I need to use the restroom,” Rumple excused, giving Miles’ stub a quick squeeze before getting up from the table. Miles gave a wary nod, but it looked like he bought it as he took out his phone. Rumple didn’t deny the bit of guilt that he had for abandoning and deceiving Miles in such a way, especially given his role in rectifying Moe’s true crime. He was sure on some level that Miles had thought that had the chance come up to take his revenge on Moe, Rumple would forego it, or more likely, that by the time Rumple had that chance, Emma would have already captured Moe. After the evening that he had, even **he** for a moment believed that he could let it go, if only for tonight.

 

However, something about seeing Moe out and about, still working, still **living** , struck a chord with Rumple. He couldn’t ignore what was right in front of him, not alone in any case, and Rumple had absolutely **no** urge to seek help right now.

 

As Rumple strode over to Moe, he seemed to grow uglier with every step taken closer to him. Moe, luckily had not noticed his presence at all over the course of the delivery. Even if he had, Rumple doubted he’d make much of a play, not with the police on his trail. Rumple waited for just the right moment, when Moe exited the restaurant, and no one was around. Once he snuck behind the main entrance, that’s when Rumple struck.

 

Moe never saw it coming. Rumple grabbed his forearm with a grip of iron, and pushed him against the concrete wall by the back of the eatery. His other hand busied itself with keeping his captive quiet, holding him by the throat.

 

Apparently, Miles’ sentiments form earlier still struck true: He was stronger than he looked.

 

“What made you think you could steal from me,” Rumple growled. A throaty gurgle was the only response he got.

 

_I suppose I should let him breathe._

“I will let you breathe in one second,” Rumple promised, “and you’re going to tell me exactly what went down between you and that snake of a mayor. Do this simple task correctly, and I can guarantee you won’t suffer nearly as much. That same won’t be promised otherwise. As for if you call out for help, well, I can only hope you know how to beg for mercy. Let’s begin.”

 

Rumple loosened his hold on the Moe’s throat, his hand lowering a single inches. Moe wasted no time catching his breath.

 

“I needed that van,” Moe finally said when he had retrieved enough air. Rumple’s hand shot right back up to where it was before he let Moe speak.

 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Rumple said in mock lament through gritted teeth. “That was **not** the right response. Try again.” Rumple thought of his cane, which currently rested at his side, currently holstered onto his belt. How lovely would it be to smack Moe with it.

 

“Please,” Moe begged. “It wasn’t my fault.”

 

**_“Wasn’t my fault?!” I’ll kill him!_ **

 

“Not my fault? You shut her out!” Rumple raised his voice, forgetting for a second where he was. Forgetting all manner of subtlety, Rumple pushed his captive to the floor. He brandished his cane high in the open air and glowered at Moe. “You had her love and you shut her out. She’s gone, she’s gone forever!”

 

Suddenly, a voice called out. It wasn’t his, and it wasn’t Moe’s.

 

“Rob!”

 

Rumple turned his head. There, illuminated by the light of the moon, Miles stood, his hand and stub out in the open and gesturing for the conflict to de-escalate. Rumple’s eyes darted to him for a flash before returning his attention to Moe, his glare daring him to move so much as an inch. Moe stayed in place, scared stiff.

 

“Rob, I know you’re upset, but let’s talk about this.”

 

“There’s nothing to talk about, Miles,” Rumple answered, half snarling.

 

“I beg to differ, if you can believe it.” Rumple felt Miles took a step closer, and he moved accordingly so that both Miles and Moe remained in his view. The air felt thinner than tissue paper.

 

To be fair, Miles hadn’t wasted his time by reminding him of arguments past. He definitely understood how Moe’s appearance had changed everything.

 

Now if only he would just **give up**.

 

“Rob, he’s not hurt,” Miles went on to say. “Let him go now, and we can stop this before it can’t be stopped.”

 

Rumple fought back a snort. Miles must have arrived after he had stopped choking Moe. The red ring around his neck had yet to form into anything distinct yet.

 

“I don’t want to stop this, I want him to **suffer**.” Rumple readied his cane to attack French. The weight of it in his hands was so agonizing. He wanted to lower it so much, and the perfect target was ready to receive what was coming.

 

“Wait!” Miles cried, just before Rumple could slam it down. “Answer me this: **Who** do you want him to suffer for?” It was clear as the starry sky above that Miles was trying to persuade Rumple away from is intentions, but Rumple wasn’t about to be swayed.

 

_Not going to work, Miles. Not where Belle’s concerned._

 

“You **know** who, Miles,” he growled. Rumple inched closer to Moe again.

 

“Wait,” Miles pleaded. “Just listen to me. Earlier today, I promised you that we’d honor your friend’s memory, and we did. We got back the cup. It’s safe and sound at home. Hurting him will accomplish nothing.”

 

“It’ll make me feel better,” Rumple snipped.

 

“But it’ll tarnish her memory in the process.” It was said so boldly, so plainly. If Rumple hadn’t been so angry, he might have been stunned.

 

But rage was a powerful drug, one he had been nursing on for centuries now.

 

“How dare you,” Rumple roared. Miles flinched, but otherwise didn’t move.

 

“It’s true. Rob, you told me all about this woman last night. Let me ask you this: What would **she** have you do?”

 

“Because of **him** , she’ll never get to answer that question,” Rumple shot.

 

“Rob, please,” Miles cried. Rumple turned to argue with his husband, his eyes blazing with whit hot ferocity… but extinguished just as quickly as he saw Miles’ face. For all the rage Rumple had, Miles had none of it. No, he wasn’t enraged. He was sad, and worried, and Rumple could tell that the worry wasn’t for Miles himself or Moe, but for him. “Don’t do this. We’ll call Emma and he’ll get what he deserves. Just **please** don’t do this, because if you do, if you hurt him, **you** and you alone will be the one who betrayed and sullied her memory. Not Moe, and not I, but you. Love, I don’t want that burden to be on your shoulders and I’m willing to wager that she wouldn’t either.”

 

Rumple turned back to Moe, who was on the ground cowering. From Rumple’s angle, he looked like a cockroach, one that could be done in at any second.

 

_He’s pathetic._

 

_…He should be thanking his stars for my need to maintain a low profile._

The part of Rumple’s brain that denied that this had anything to do with his identity was shut up.

With a final gaze at Moe, Rumple turned and walked away.

 

“Let’s get out of here,” he muttered as he approached Miles’ side.

 

Miles placed a hand on Rumple’s shoulder, gratefulness sketched all over his features. “Indeed we can, but just a moment.” Miles then looked up, and moved past Rumple, his eyes focused on Moe.

 

“As for you,” Miles sneered, glaring at Moe. “You’re to never approach my husband again. You have workers. One of them can be in charge of the rent, which will in fact be doubled going forward. And if you ever even **look** at our house again, we’ll have your shop closed down before you even see it coming! We’re letting you off easy for now, so I suggest you don’t forget that anytime soon. Understood?” Moe didn’t say anything, but the silence spoke volumes.

 

Rumple blinked, shock giving birth to his own personal bout of silence.

 

Miles had stood up for him in the past, even in Rumple’s un-cursed form. This, however, was something completely different. Never before had he been so invested. Never before had he said ‘ **we** ’ when defending him. Not once in the past had Miles taken such an active role in Rumple’s business, not even during the confrontation with the grocery store manager back in December. This…this was so much more **personal** and Miles held such esteem for both who and what he was representing.

 

It was all Rumple could do to hold onto his composure.

 

Suddenly, the blaring of sirens came into earshot. Rumple looked around. In the distance, approaching, was a police car. When the car was finally near enough to the scene of their confrontation, it stopped. Out stepped Emma Swan. Her sights were immediately set upon Moe.

 

“Moe French,” she said. “I’ve been looking for you, but something tells me that you knew that.” Emma then pulled out a pair of handcuffs that despite the darkness, shined like fireflies. “I’ve got a few questions for you down by the station.”

 

Rumple watched as Emma took Moe away. Moe tried telling her that Rumple had attacked him, but as Miles hadn’t seen anything and Tony’s had no security cameras on site, the argument fell upon deaf ears, though not without a pensive glance in Rumple’s direction by Emma as the two of them went off in the police car.

 

Once they left, Rumple started walking back towards the entrance to the restaurant, taking Miles’ hand into his own as he did. When they were at last there, Miles released his hand, only to pull Rumple in close, the appendage and its non-existent left counterpart cuddling up to his shoulders.

 

“Are you okay,” Miles whispered into Rumple’s ear.

 

Rumple sighed deeply, and looked his husband in the eye. Their faces mirrored each other’s perfectly, a glum expression at the forefront behind a boundless array of things unsaid. “About as well as I can be,” he shrugged while making sure he was still snuggly in the embrace.

 

“I know it may not be what you’re in the mood to hear right now, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t believe me, but you did the right thing, Rob.”

 

“It doesn’t feel that way,” Rumple said honestly.

 

“It doesn’t always,” Miles responded, his words echoing truthfully. Through Rumple’s hair, he could feel a kiss pressed for an instant up against his scalp. “Thank you, Rob.”

 

Miles’ kindness had caught Rumple off guard. Of course, Miles was always kind, but the last time Rumple had behaved so violently, he hadn’t been. What changed between now and then?

 

Rumple had had enough mysteries for one day. Hell, today had had enough mysteries for one lifetime. He didn’t want another.

 

“I must say, I’m shocked you’re still talking to me,” Rumple muttered. Miles looked at him, confused.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“With everything that just happened, you’re forgiving me? Just like that?” For a moment, Miles was quiet, biting his lips. Rumple was sure that a million and one thoughts were crossing his mind. In the meantime though, Rumple was afraid, but the fear was different. It was a fear of disappointment. Rumple broke up the hug, but stayed close to his husband, his fears, much like the fluttering feelings from earlier, present but distant by his forced hand.

 

“Rob,” Miles started, in much of the way that he usually did. “I’d be lying if I said that there was no darkness about you. Sometimes you embrace it. But sometimes, you fight it, and in those instances, I couldn’t love you more if I tried. So no, I’m not forgiving you just like that. I’m forgiving you because you **earned** my forgiveness." Miles, holding onto a relief-ridden smile, pulled Rumple into another hug, one Rumple returned immediately. “I’m so proud that you’re mine,” he added.

 

“Likewise,” Rumple responded sincerely.

 

_I must say, out of everyone I could’ve been stuck with under this ghastly curse, I could’ve done a lot worse than him._

 

“What do you say we get our food wrapped up and go home?”

 

“Sounds perfect,” Rumple replied as the pair continued back towards Tony’s.

 

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As soon as Rumple entered the house, he went straight for his bedroom. His energy from earlier had been all but depleted. All he wanted to do was sleep.

 

He ascended the staircase alone, Miles promising to be up momentarily. Rumple didn’t care to ask why.

 

Pajamas put on promptly after entering the room, Rumple crawled into bed, with Miles joining him shortly afterwards. Rumple tried to hide his disappointment whenever Miles looked at him, after a while, but couldn’t quite keep the emotions at bay.

 

He knew he had ultimately done the right thing. If Belle were here, she’d be proud of him. He was even reminded of her reaction the first time that he had mercy on someone on her behalf when Miles hugged him.

 

But this was different.

 

Back in the Enchanted Forest, short of barely denting Rumple’s reputation, the thief Robin Hood had caused him little, if any, harm. To put it less than mildly, Moe had. Letting **that** go felt like it would be as hard to do as flying to the sun.

 

A hand in his pulled Rumple away from his attempts at solitude. Once again, all that was offered otherwise was a smile so endearing, Rumple couldn’t help but at least try to return it. He shifted onto his side, facing Miles.

 

“Hey,” Rumple said.

 

“Hey,” Miles repeated. He gave Rumple’s hand a gentle squeeze.

 

“I don’t know about you, but I am done.” Rumple sighed. “I can’t wait to get some sleep.”

 

“I know you are, love. You’ve had a long day, that much is certain.”

 

“That it has been. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to finally put it to an end.” Rumple removed his hand from Miles’ and proceeded to tighten his half of the comforter around himself until he was satisfied.

 

“Not so fast,” Miles interrupted. “How about a bedtime story before you do? Ease your way into the dream realm?”

 

“Not tonight,” Rumple dismissed. He laid on his back, and extended a hand for Miles to hold again, which was taken instantly.

 

As Rumple closed his eyes, all seemed calm.

 

Then, Miles still holding Rumple’s hand, began to shake it too. The resulting sensation made falling asleep damn near impossible.

 

_What the hell?_

 

Rumple lifted himself up to leer at Miles, who was already eyeing Rumple while sporting a cheeky grin. “Come on, Rob. It’s story time.” Miles looked onto his lap, and Rumple’s eyes followed. On top of Miles’ lap was a small black book with golden printed vines that formed a border. On the cover, also in golden letters were five words: The Miner and the Prince.

 

“What’s this?”

 

“Well,” Miles said, “had…what had happened earlier not occurred, this was to be your Valentine’s Day gift. Henry and his book inspired me. Once I returned the cup, I wasn’t sure you’d need it.”

 

Rumple scoffed. “You just wanted a present for another day.” Miles looked away awkwardly.

 

“Whether or not that’s true-“

 

“Which it **is** ,” Rumple interjected. Miles rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

 

“Still, seeing you here, given all that happened, I think this may be something you could use.”

 

“Miles, I do appreciate the gift. I really do. But it’s as you said. Today was…just too much. So, do we really have to do this right now?” Rumple no longer felt the need to lie about his exasperation. Today, sans Miles and his every effort to keep Rumple amused and comforted, had been awful, and he was all too ready for it to end.

 

Miles, however, wasn’t having any of that just yet.

 

“Yes. Yes we do.” Rumple stared at Miles and raised a brow. “One story won’t kill you,” he commented.

 

Rumple sighed and made himself comfortable by Miles’ side, his surrendering thoroughly signaled. Miles smiled at him, opened the book, and began to tell his tale.

 

“Once upon a time, there was a miner. He was a simple man with simple desires. He lived well, but also alone, in the woods. Every week, the miner would look for caves filled with jewels in the same neck of the woods alongside others in his craft. Today, however, the miner decided that to get the jump on his competition, he would investigate the woods in the southern half of the forest and attempt to find new mining spots.”

 

“Good eye for business,” Rumple muttered.

 

“But a bad eye for sense. He didn’t tell anyone that he was going there. Didn’t trust anyone not to screw him over for his idea. He walked to the mine over the course of a few days, and once he got there, he immediately set out to work. Things were going fine at first. Jewels entered his cart steadily as the hours flew by. Suddenly though, the ground began to stir, rumble, and eventually shake. It was an earthquake. As well prepared as the miner was, earthquakes could only be avoided so much. The opening of the cave collapsed after a few rumbles, and as they went on, the cave-in only got deeper. Just as the earthquake ended, the miner began to work to clear the rocks that had fallen out of his path, but unfortunately, fate was not on his side. Another bout of shaking started and more rocks fell from the cave’s wall.” Miles bit his lip before continuing. “The miner was mostly able to get away, but it was not a clean escape. His hand…his hand, it was crushed underneath a rock so large that it was nearly a boulder.” Rumple, without thinking, gave Miles an encouraging squeeze. “The miner discovered, upon retrieving his hand from the rubble, that it was unresponsive to anything and…numb.” Miles’ features got softer and darker.

 

Rumple didn’t understand why Miles was continuing with this story.

 

“Miles, stop,” he begged.

 

“The miner found himself in a dark place,” Miles continued, clearly electing to ignore Rumple’s advice. “Both literally and figuratively. He didn’t see a way out, and was ready to fall prey to the darkness that threatened to pull him in.” Then, against all sense of logic, Miles smiled. “However, our tale is far from over. Not far from the caves, a prince came striding through the terrain, hunting for wild foxes.”  
  
“And let me guess,” Rumple interrupted impatiently. “The prince, upon hearing the miner’s cry, ordered his servants to lift the boulder.”

 

Miles gave him a look. “How about let me tell the story,” he continued, not angrily, but with a sense of humor. “Anyway, the prince, who was traveling **alone** , may I add, happened upon the miner’s cries. With some work, he managed to find the spot on the other side of the cave that was closest to him. ‘Good sir,’ the prince cried,” Miles narrated, using a slightly more pronounced version of his own voice for his dialogue. “’Do not worry, for you are no longer alone. Please, tell me of you circumstances.’ And the miner did. The prince listened with a heavy heart. At the same time though, as the prince listened, his muttering made it seem to the miner that he was thinking- nay- even pondering plans for his escape. When the miner was finished, the prince took one last thoughtful pause, and then spoke.”

 

“’The hand taken, was it the one you were born deft with,’ he inquired. The miner told him that it wasn’t. “Then there’s one reason to celebrate!’ The miner wasn’t as assured as the prince was, but the man’s faith inspired him to at least entertain the possibility.”

 

_Hope does have that funny way of working like that._

Rumple was once more reminded of Belle, whose faith was as contagious as a plague _._

 

“’I can pull some of these boulders away, but I’ll need you to take some off of your end too.’ The miner was reluctant, but with the prince’s encouragement, he grabbed a stone. With a lo-o-ud grunt,” Miles said, accentuating the grunt’s strength with his words, “the miner pulled it out of the way and threw it onto the ground behind him. And he did it again and again, and the prince did the same. After an hour, a small, yet bright light shined through to the other side of the cave. The miner told the prince to step back and when he did, the miner pushed the remaining layer of rocks out of the way so there was enough space for him to pass through.” Miles had said that last sentence with such enthusiasm, that it nearly blew Rumple away.

 

The fact that Miles’ story was a parallel of Robert and Miles’ own story didn’t escape him. He had recognized that mere seconds after Miles had started telling it, and Miles no doubt knew that he knew it too. And it wasn’t as though Rumple wasn’t aware of how much their first meeting had contributed to their love story. Miles had told him as much, and Rumple wasn’t about to forget that memory anytime soon.

 

But that begged the question: why was he telling it **now**? What relevancy did such a tale hold to their present situation?

 

It was frustrating to contemplate, especially as the story was about to reach its conclusion.

 

“Now with no boundaries between them, the miner and the prince properly met. Just as their connection had existed when they were separated, it had been there when they were together too. It even grew, as the two saw so much potential in the other. The prince welcomed the miner to work and live in his kingdom and palace, promising to make his days happy forevermore, and the miner, now seeing the strength in his faith in others could bring, accepted.” Miles turned from his book and stared at Rumple. Rumple placed his hand on Miles’, just as Miles was about to turn to the next page.

 

“I think I can tell you this part,” Rumple said.

 

Miles smiled at him, his hand ready to turn the final page whenever he was.

 

“Be my guest, love.”

 

“They lived happily ever after.”

 

Miles kissed him.

 

“Excellent job,” he breathed. “The end.”

 

Rumple frowned. Miles’ tale wasn’t poorly concocted or anything, but its intent, despite Miles’ claims about him needing it now, flew right over Rumple’s head. Rumple partially wanted to ignore it. He could fake a smile, call it a cute story, kiss Miles as thanks for telling it, and go to bed. It was surely the quickest means to ending the dreadful day he’d had. However, curiosity proved itself to be nothing if not a persuasive vixen, and Rumple found that he could not sleep until it was satisfied.

 

“It was a nice story,” Rumple said, “but what does it mean?”

 

Miles bit his lip furrowed his brow as Rumple waited for his response. “Darkness never seems like it has a light,” Miles answered. “Bad things happen to us, and that has a way of making us forget anything else that we’re capable of, be it confidence, forgiveness, or emotional strength. But there **is** a light, as hard as it is to find it. All that that miner needed was that one little spark of hope that he could find it. And sometimes, they need some **one**. It’s like I told you before. Sometimes you need help, and sometimes I need help, and when we coordinate, and listen to each other, and do what needs to be done to keep each other safe and happy, that’s when we win the day.” Miles looked to be studying Rumple again. “ **Are** you happy?” He asked.

 

Rumple smiled. “I’m not…unhappy,” he teased.

 

The two men moved nearer and nearer towards the other as the call for intimacy beckoned. When they finally stopped, Rumple and Miles were so close together, that their heads now comfortably shared a pillow.

 

Miles cupped Rumple’s cheek. “You’re fantastic, Robert Gold.”

 

Rumple’s arm made it’s way around Miles’ back. “You’re not so bad yourself, Miles Gold.” Another kiss was shared. It lingered softly.

 

“G’ night,” Miles wished. A yawn overcame him as he said the very same message that followed him to sleep every night for decades: “I love you.”

 

“Night Miles. I love you too,” Rumple mirrored back in a yawn that matched his partner’s in exhaustion. They linked arms and cuddled as both men let their eyes close.

 

As Rumple fell asleep, the only feeling that coursed through his body was one of peace, and the only person running through his mind was a man with soft dark hair and sky-blue eyes that could light up the world, and much to what would later be his anguish but for now was a distraction that he didn’t mind in the least, he realized that was exactly the way he wanted it.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading!
> 
> Please comment! The turnout for the last chapter was so good, and it really helped to convince me that it’s worth it to spend the time and energy to release these chapters more regularly! 
> 
> Also, if you comment, you get a SNEAK PEEK of the next one! How cool is that?! And I can promise you, it’s going to be a doozy!


	20. Chapter 19: Just Another Week in Storybrooke (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time nor any of its characters, settings, etc.
> 
> A/N: Happy Holidays, readers!!!! Whatever you celebrate (or have already celebrated), I hope it’s full of cheer and love and anything else you want!
> 
> So, Chapter 3.5, not this fic’s best moments. Ah well, live and learn! At least now it’s in its proper place for future readers! 
> 
> That said, it’s time to get along with the story, and this time, I hope you’re ready for a bit of a sprint! The Kathryn Nolan arc is really short, lasting only a week in canon, so I’m going to bang that out fast so we can get one step closer to getting this curse broken! But what will happen then? OOH!! I also changed up the style here, which you’ll see in a moment!
> 
> Anyway, on with the chapter!

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**Just Another Week in Storybrooke (Part 1)**

 

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Day One

 

**Ding dong!**

 

Rumple put down the plate and sponge that were in his hands, and turned around at the sound of the doorbell, an eyebrow raised. It was the afternoon, a rather strange time for his household to have visitors. 

 

_ Who could that be at such a peculiar hour? _

 

The placement of the sink in the kitchen allowed for a perfect view of the front door. The windows of the door, by design, were blurry as to provide both a nice aesthetic design as well as some respect for his and Miles’ privacy. What he could make out was naught but a dark haired figure, vaguely feminine looking in build.

 

Rumple could think of exactly one person who fit that description who would have any business with either Miles or he.

 

_ So much for a peaceful end to my lunch break. _

 

He scrutinized the figure on the other side of the door more closely. She looked to be putting her hands on her hips, impatient. If there was an inkling of doubt as to who it was before, that one movement killed it. Rumple grunted before cleaning off his hands, making his way over to the door, and finally opening it. 

 

As expected, Regina was indeed on the other side. The expression on her face as Rumple silently acknowledged her presence could make cotton candy sour.

 

“Where’s Miles?” Regina asked bluntly, the second the door was opened wide enough for her to do so.

 

“At work,” Rumple answered, just as bluntly.

 

“Good.” 

 

Rumple leered at Regina She certainly had some nerve approaching him after not only insulting Miles, but afterwards stealing Belle’s cup too. He didn’t know what she was expecting to come of this conversation, but whatever it was, if Rumple could help it, she’d have another thing coming.

 

“Can I help you with something? I’m quite busy today.”

 

“Come off it, Gold!” Regina snapped. “You know what I want.”

 

Rumple looked at her, expressions reflecting fake confusion. Now that she had mentioned it, he knew damn well what she wanted. His identity. 

 

That didn’t mean that he was going to give it to her.

 

“Actually, I don’t,” he lied, “and I ask that you use a calmer tone with me.”

 

“Like hell you don’t!” Regina said. Rumple scoffed at how she blatantly ignored his request. Then again, he reminded himself, his pupil was never all that good at following directions to begin with.

 

“Such language!” Rumple scolded, sarcasm thick in his words. “Miles was just telling me the other day about how you and I should discuss that little attitude problem of yours, calling him ‘Flipper breath,’ and what was it,” Rumple inquired rhetorically, ‘a pirate?’”

 

“It was a slip,” Regina assured. “It won’t happen again. But that’s not why I’m here.” 

 

Rumple glowered. Here she was being presented the opportunity to confront her misdoings, and her response was somehow more insulting than ignoring it altogether.

 

_ Yeah. This isn’t going on for a moment longer. _

 

“It’s the only thing keeping  **me** here, so if you don’t mind, Madam Mayor.” Rumple began to close the door. Regina blocked him with her hand, a palm firmly pressed up to the door’s surface.

 

“Don’t even think about it.”

 

“And what’s to stop me?” Rumple began to put more pressure on the door as to properly close it.

 

“Your husband’s safety,” Regina threatened. 

 

That gave Rumple pause, albeit not much. It was just enough that his grip on the door’s handle loosened, and Regina, now smirking, pulled it open with relative ease as she continued to speak. “My security cameras caught Miles breaking into my house last night. I would get talking before I call Sheriff Swan and have her arrest him.” 

 

Rumple glared at her, refusing to give up just yet. 

 

“I’ll just have Miles tell her exactly what he found while looking through your drawers.”

 

“That cup’s not in the footage. I already checked,” Regina pointed out, all-too smugly. “Without that, you’ll have no proof that I even took it in the first place. As far as the law is concerned, you just lost it.” Regina’s smirk grew impossibly wider.

 

“We’ll have your fingerprints on the cup itself.”

 

Regina stared at him, as if to ask if that was seriously his plan. “I was wearing gloves. Seriously, Gold, you insult me.”

 

Rumple clenched his jaw. It seemed that Regina was a bit more clever than Rumple had anticipated. 

 

But only just a touch.

 

Still, he refused to surrender, for there was one more trick up his sleeve. 

 

His please clause.

 

It was one he’d used before, and one he’d exploit like the Dickens if it meant retaining hold over his low profile.

 

However, just as he was about to make his special request, Regina interrupted. 

 

“And before you think of dropping that six-letter trap of yours, know that I have...well, let’s call them systems in check to make sure that the word is spread, even if it’s not by me.”

 

“How?”

 

Regina shook her head sinisterly. “Oh I’m not about to tell you, not while i have you cornered. I learned as much from my dear mentor. So, what will it be? Talk to me, or witness me call for your husband’s arrest.”

 

This was bad.

 

Rumple knew Emma would do what she had to in this situation, not only from a professional standpoint, but also in the hope that following Regina’s orders would once again grant her access to her son. 

 

Even if doing so meant arresting Miles.

 

Anger seething and pulsing through his veins, Rumple narrowed his eyes. For the first time since he was awoken from the curse, it was Regina who had triumphed over him and not the other way around. 

 

“What do you want?” he sneered, as if he wasn’t already fully aware of what was to come next.

 

“Your name.”

 

“Robert Gold,” Rumple answered through clenched teeth, a final and desperate act of defiance, pleading that she would buy it.

 

“That’s not the name I’m talking about.”

 

_ No luck. _

 

“It’s the only name I’ve ever gone by in this world.” 

 

Regina released an intrigued hum.

 

“But you’ve gone by other names in other worlds.” Rumple said nothing. “Talk. What’s your  **real** name?”

 

Rumple hesitated, and a lump in his throat the size of a golf ball grew in the heart of his chest. 

 

At last, his gambit against Regina was over, after months of his devoted carefulness, and Rumple found himself plagued with unbearable disbelief and denial. In his grief, part of him reminded himself that he could just close the door and walk away.

 

…

 

Then he thought of Miles.

 

Rumple didn’t even know where he’d begin to explain himself to his husband had Regina followed through on her promise and turned him in.

 

…And he couldn’t even begin to imagine the hurt in Miles’ eyes before, after, and as he did.

 

He sighed. 

 

_ The charade was bound to be broken eventually.  _

 

“Rumpelstiltskin, Your Majesty,” he confessed softly.

 

Regina started chuckling. The chuckling grew into full-on laughter before much time passed. “And here I thought it would take so much more to break the great Dark One,” she teased between bursts of laughter. “As it turns out, however, your weak spot is pretty easy to find.” Rumple’s eyes narrowed. “I must say, after these long years, it’s nice to have someone on my level to talk to about all of this,” Regina commented, waving her hands in a wide circle above her head. “So, how do you like how your little curse turned out? Is it not everything you expected it to be?” She spread her arms out, as to show off her creation to him, the very man who had made its implementation possible.

 

“It’s nice. Could do without the whiny mayor,” Rumple snarked.

 

“Funny. I was about to say the same thing about the stingy landlord.” They stared at each other tensely. It wasn’t quite a glare for Rumple, but it certainly was one from Regina. Suddenly, Regina’s lips curled up into a wicked grin. “I would say this curse turned out  **wonderfully** for you. As promised, you have a wealth. You have power. You have an enormous house. You even have a  **loving husband** .”

 

_ Of course, now that she knows it’s me, we’re back to this again. _

 

Rumple rolled his eyes.

 

“You know,” she continued. “I knew I’d be in for a treat when I set you two up, be it a laugh at the irony of you and that pirate being lovebirds or even joy if you ended up finishing each other off. This, I didn’t expect. I love it, but I never saw it coming.”

 

“And what do you mean by ‘this?’”

 

“You and Miles, of course.”

 

“If you want help, you’re off to a terrible start asking for it,” Rumple insinuated, working to change the subject as best as he could.

 

“Help is beneath you,” Regina stated with the bluntness of a brick wall to the face. “I want a deal.” Rumple hid his relief that Regina actually complied.

 

“At least you remain competent in one area, Regina.”

 

Rumple’s subsequent smirk showed off his smile. 

 

“Nice tooth,” Regina commented.

 

“Nice pant suit,” Rumple shot back. 

 

Regina frowned.

 

“How you do think he’s going to feel about you should the curse break?” she suddenly asked. 

 

Rumple bit the inside of his cheek, but maintained a straight face. “It matters not to me,” he responded, releasing a shrug. Regina’s response was a swift and annoyed rolling of her eyes.

 

“Don’t kid yourself, imp. I know what happened the other night. You would’ve destroyed that florist in a second if that husband of yours wasn’t there to stop it.” 

 

The fact that Regina knew of the events following her Valentine’s Day theft wasn’t surprising, though it didn’t make the conclusions she reached based off of them any easier for him.

 

“I only stopped in the interest of keeping a low profile,” Rumple protested. Regina shot him a look outright screaming that she wasn’t buying his claims.

 

“How long do you think you can keep that up? Face it, Gold: You care about him. And so I ask again: what do you think he would do to you if the curse breaks?”

 

Refusing to answer, Rumple sneered at his former pupil. “What do you want, Regina?”

 

“The curse. At full power,” Regina demanded. “I want that sheriff’s influence on my town gone, and I want Mary Margaret and David as far apart from each other as possible.”

 

“And I want Miles to not make fish every single night, but we don’t always get what we want, now do we?”

 

“This helps you too,” Regina said. “The moment the curse breaks, your loving husband goes back to being the pirate who wants nothing more than to stab his hook into your heart. If you ask me, having fish every night beats that. Besides,” she added, skimming Rumple up and down with her eyes, “you could use the protein.” A dangerous grin appeared over her lips. Rumple sneered at her for what felt like the eighth time in the span of five minutes, but Regina’s expression didn’t change. “So, do we have a deal?”

 

Rumple nodded. “I’ll ensure something tragic happens to Mrs. Nolan, and you do what you can to divide the family with it.” Regina released a satisfying hmph in response.

 

“I’m glad to hear that you still have some regard for your posterity.”

 

“If that’s the end of your business with me, then you can be on your way,” Rumple snipped.

 

Regina smirked, finally letting go of the door and distancing herself further and further away from Rumple. “Touchy, touchy. I’ll leave you to your new task and your…husband.” Without giving Rumple a chance to say anything more, Regina turned around and entered her car on the side of the road.

 

Rumple sighed. His week had, in the span of just a few moments, just gotten a lot more complicated, and he needed to plan accordingly for the challenges that were about to present themselves.

 

_ Uhhh. I can’t believe that I finally find myself here, of all places. _

 

As for Regina, he’d make her pay. Even from under her thumb, he’d rise back again, just as he had countless times before. Rumple would play her game, but just long enough for him to master the rules so that he could win.

 

_ Very well, your Majesty. It’s time for something tragic. _

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Kidnapping Kathryn Nolan was easier than Rumple could have ever dreamed it would be. He didn’t need to do anything at all except wait for Regina’s curse over the entrance to Storybrooke to do its job. Miles, luckily enough, had been out that evening, leaving Rumple able to do anything his heart desired undetected. All he had to do was be in the right place at the right time.

 

Rumple gave Kathryn credit. She was only about one hundred or so feet from the edge of town before her car began to malfunction. From what he understood, that was further than most others ever made it before an accident or convincing phone call dragged their wayward souls back to town. When Rumple discovered Kathryn’s body, thankfully still alive, he slipped her drugs that made her bout of unconsciousness last just a bit longer.

 

Then he secured her.

 

Regina, who insisted on frequent contact, had suggested that they use her vault to keep their prisoner in, but Rumple opted instead to an abandoned farmhouse that he owned. There was a basement there that served as a perfect place to hide Kathryn away. It was dark and hidden from anywhere that anyone would look. The door was closed with a big iron lock and the room was soundproofed too just for added measure. A single chamber pot and a bed bolted to the floor was all that was provided for her survival. Rumple had taken out all of the lights beforehand, and all windows were boarded shut from the outside.

 

Rumple decided to stop by the farmhouse twice a day over the course of the following week, once before he entered the shop, and once just after he left. He portioned Kathryn’s rations carefully and accounted for times he knew he wouldn’t be able to get to feed her, always keeping her fed well enough that death wasn’t ever a risk. To ensure the stasis of her capture, he kept her chains tight and used the strongest bars he could get his hands on.

 

Now all that was left to do was wait for the chips to fall where they may.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Day Two

 

“Rob?”

 

“Yes, Miles?”

 

“Why don’t you like nuns?” 

 

Rumple, caught off guard, blinked twice before raising a brow. That was quite the odd question.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Leroy told me earlier today that you don’t like nuns,” Miles explained.

 

_ Leroy… That gossip. _

 

_ This is why dwarfs should be kept in the mines. _

 

Rumple and Miles were at the Miner’s Day festival. After arriving home from dropping off Kathryn’s food for the evening, Miles had convinced Rumple that it was worth it to come out tonight, and Rumple didn’t have any good reason as to why they shouldn’t have - or rather, none that wouldn’t elicit suspicion, so to the festival they went. All had gone relatively well until the power cut out. Immediately, what could be described as a pleasant evening stocked with nice leftover Christmas lights across a litany of booths grew dark and cold. Rumple, having only realized it now, had instinctively started walking closer to Miles when the freezing darkness first settled in. He was trapped at that distance - or lack thereof - though he truly didn’t mind it. Besides, no one even noticed them with all the panic over the blackout and the allure of the candles for sale on the other side of the festival.

 

“So why don’t you like them?” Miles repeated.

 

Rumple grimaced. He had never expected Miles to ask such a question. Then again, that folly was on him and him alone. Over the course of his time in this most unique of situations, Rumple had learned that it was best not to expect anything when it came to Miles.

 

Unfortunately, that now meant dealing with his husband’s annoying question. 

 

_ Damn you, Leroy. _

 

_ Thank your lucky stars for the fact that you live in one of the eight buildings in this town that I don’t own. If you didn’t, you’d be evicted before tomorrow’s sunrise. _

 

Thinking quickly, Rumple made an effort to tease off the inquiry.

 

“They’re snooty and pretentious.” It was Rumple’s hope that his and Miles’ ensuing banter would wash away Miles’ curiosity and set him free.

 

However, Miles seemed to be much too crafty for that.

 

Again, he really should’ve seen it coming.

 

“So are you,” Miles teased, shrugging as Rumple gave him a glare that was only semi-serious. “But that’s hardly a reason to hate them. So stop trying to change the subject and spill. What did they do you to grant them your ire?”

 

Rumple bit his lip, at a loss for what to say. Miles certainly couldn’t know the real reason why he hated the nuns, not if he wanted to remain outside the confines of an asylum.

 

He could give Miles a sob story - he already had an idea or two brewing, and it wouldn’t be hard to pull off. After all, one didn’t become the Dark One without also becoming a terrific liar, and that was something that he had showcased incognito over the past several months. However, with the nuns actually here, it would be difficult to give Miles a fib that he could confirm on the spot, and with him standing directly beside him, Rumple could hardly threaten the nuns into confirming anything he said. Mother Superior would certainly take the rare and open opportunity to screw him over.

 

_ How else can I explain how I despise them so without targeting them specifically? _

 

_ How can I make them something I can latch hate onto abstractly? _

 

Suddenly, another lie came to mind, one that would undoubtedly work. On the other hand, this particular lie would leave Rumple coming off far sillier than he’d ever wish to appear to Miles. It was humiliating to say the least, and when the curse finally broke, Hook no doubt would get a kick out of it whenever he recalled it.

 

He looked at Miles, his gaze still inquisitive and now crossing the border from joking to more serious. In that instant, he knew what he had to do.

 

_ Time to do what must be done. _

 

“You can’t tell  **anyone** ,” Rumple emphasized. It was already bad enough that this was the lie he was going with, but he wasn’t about to let anyone outside of the two of them hear it.

 

“That bad?” Miles pressed, his tone a cross between being inquisitive and prematurely humored.

 

“Not a living or dead soul.” He stared pointedly at Miles. Miles put his hand and stub up in mock surrender.

 

“You know I won’t, Rob.”

 

_ That I do. _

 

“When I was a young boy,” Rumple said, “I was watching TV while my parents were upstairs. It was late, and the movies that were on...well, they were hardly child friendly.”

 

“Okay,” Miles said slowly. “Can’t say I’m following you.”

 

“That’s because you’re impatient,” Rumple snipped.

 

Miles lowered himself so that his mouth was nearly touching Rumple’s ear. “And you  **love** me for it.”

 

Rumple snorted as he playfully shrugged Miles off before shifting his tone to one more serious and returning to his story. “Anyways, I was young and it was my first chance to watch a scary movie by myself. So I watched.” Rumple was lucky that he knew of a film that matched up perfectly with the story he was concocting. He doubted Miles wouldn’t take his word as truth, but the fact that Miles was becoming more and more like his former adversary by the day left Rumple with a desire to leave nothing to chance. “There was a scene. The movie wasn’t in English, mind you, so I couldn’t understand it, but a couple of nuns were there, and what they did was just awful. There was this sanctuary, and inside were birds, so many birds, and the nuns in the movie burned them all alive. Miles, it was disgusting. I remember vomiting when it happened and unable to sleep for several nights afterwards. From then on, I stopped trusting nuns. Even now, I cringe when I see them approach children and especially animals. I’d never have even gone to a another church again had the property not been listed for a price too good to refuse.”

 

Upon finishing his reasonings, Rumple turned to look at Miles. Miles was biting his lip, and Rumple worried for a moment that regardless of his efforts, he would treat Rumple’s story as something to be comforted, and not simply accepted as he had planned to happen. 

 

However, as he continued staring, he noticed something change.

 

Miles’ lip began to quiver.

 

_ What? _

 

Rumple shifted his gaze to the left edge of Miles’ mouth, the edge of which was turned...upwards.

 

“Miles,” Rumple said, slowly as he put two and two together. “Are you...laughing?” 

 

Rumple stared, this time harder as his eyes grew steely. Miles’ lips was still quivering, but now  **faster.** He could see Miles struggling to deny what his face was trying desperately to reveal.

 

“No,” he eventually squeaked. Rumple couldn’t help but gape at the obvious lie.

 

“Oh my God! You are!” 

 

Miles’, now busted, had let himself fall prey to his laughter fully. Rumple scoffed and slapped Miles’ arm, not the least bit playfully. Had the story not been completely fabricated, Rumple suspected that he would have done it harder.

 

“Ow!” Miles yelled, holding a half-hearted glare on his face.

 

“How could you laugh at me?” Rumple retorted. Miles’ cheerful disposition returned, and he pulled Rumple closer to him.

 

“You gotta admit, Rob,” Miles said in the midst of bits of laughter. “That’s pretty funny.” Rumple’s only response was a loud hmph. Miles, clearly not buying Rumple’s anger, placed a discreet kiss on his cheek. Rumple allowed his mock anger to dissolve as the two of them walked through the darkened fair. Miles directed them towards the booth that sold candles.

 

Minutes passed and all seemed calm. Embarrassment aside, Rumple was feeling good about the results of this fib. Still though, they were approaching the candle booth, where nuns stood left and right, and Rumple wanted to avoid any and all surprises.

 

_ Might as well see if I can be done with this line of questioning once and for all. _

 

“So, are you satisfied with your answer?” Rumple asked. 

 

“I am,” Miles responded.

 

_ Thank God. _

 

“But,” Miles continued, comically stretching the word and allowing it to hang in the air. “You do have to let it go.” Rumple nearly stopped in his tracks before simply staring at Miles incredulously.

 

“What?” 

 

“I sympathize with your plight, Rob. I do. But you’re a grown man, and you needn't fault your tenants for the sins of a movie.” Rumple grunted, but Miles, as stubborn as ever, simply challenged it with a raised brow. “Answer me this: Do you really think Mother Superior is the kind of person who’d light a sanctuary filled with birds on fire?”

 

Rumple had a very different answer to that question than the one he knew he needed to give. He certainly didn’t trust Mother Superior nor her uncursed counterpart to keep any promise of goodwill, not after what had happened so long ago when his son’s fate hung in the balance and she made not a move to aid him. However, what needed to said to get Miles off his back remained as such.

 

“No,” Rumple grumbled. 

 

“Do you think any of the other nuns would ever do that?”

 

_ Certainly could. Fairies, can’t trust ‘em nearly as far as I can throw ‘em. _

 

“No,” he grumbled again, in much of the same way.

 

“So, don’t you think it’s a little silly to hate a group of nuns for a crime that they never committed?”

 

Rumple opened his mouth, but struggled to find words to speak. He honestly should have known that this is where such a lie ultimately would’ve led him. For the future, he’d plan to keep his dealings with the nuns much more private, but for now, he had little choice but to admit defeat. 

 

_ Stupid nice husband. _

 

_ Maybe that curse should break so I can beat the crap out of him and not feel nearly as bad. _

 

Rumple muttered a request for two candles to Leroy as he took a twenty-dollar bill out of his pocket and placed it in his hand. Miles grinned proudly at him as he took one of the candles and Rumple, through a mix of exasperation and a good sense of humor, decided to just leave it at that.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Day Three

 

Rent day was afoot once again. 

 

It was quiet so far. No incidents had occurred, other than the fact that “caring for Kathryn,” as he referred to it, had delayed its beginning and drove Rumple nearly to the brink of madness in the process. 

 

_ Ugghhh. _

 

Kathryn’s screams for help as Rumple dropped off her food for the day gave him a headache that lasted even hours after the torture ended. All throughout the day, he heard little echoes of pleas for help and demands to know her whereabouts. Rumple promised himself that during his run to the grab the rent from the pharmacy, he’d invest in a pair of earplugs, a promise he made good on when the time came. 

 

But still, the ringing in his ears aside, rent day had gone without a hitch.

 

Or rather, almost.

 

It was nearing dusk when Rumple looked at his list of properties for the final time. There was only one establishment left, and it was easily his most contentious.

 

Granny’s.

 

_ Speaking of annoyances... _

 

Rumple was less than enthused to see Granny’s show up on his list. He disliked it so much so that he decided to made the restaurant his last stop of the day before returning to Kathryn for the evening shift of their game of prisoner and silent warden. 

 

Why would such a place bother him? Granny was never delinquent in her payments, the staff was kind to Miles and at least respectful to Rumple himself, and apart from some glares, Granny herself spared Rumple any real grievances to his day. 

 

In truth, it came down to one simple, yet at the same time unfathomable reason. 

 

Ruby.

 

Ruby, for all her help, had become a thorn in Rumple’s side with her attempts to befriend him. It added a burden to his trips to the diner that left him with a sense of unease, and led him to spend the following hours wondering just what her end goal was in said attempts. She had to know that he would not budge on his refusal to return her strives for friendship. He had made that notion clear as day. But still, every time she saw him, she wouldn’t leave him alone without at least some exchange of extended pleasantries.

 

It was burdensome, and would probably be more so had Ruby not played a part in solving at least a couple of problems that had arisen since he came to town. That said, it didn’t mean that he wanted to encounter her more than necessary and it certainly didn’t mean that he had any inclination towards befriending her.

 

Rumple approached Granny’s pensively, determined to be ready for anything as he opened up the front door to the eatery.

 

However, there was one thing that he wasn’t prepared for.

 

Ruby...wasn’t there.

 

At the counter, it was Granny, not Ruby, that was standing there, a steely gaze as she took notice of Rumple. A loud and irritating squeak emerged from the glass she was cleaning when that happened. Rumple listened for any sign of Ruby elsewhere in the diner, but he could sense nothing, not the scent of her perfume nor the sound of her humming or laughter from the kitchen. 

 

Now, Rumple certainly wasn’t complaining for the lack of her company, that much was for sure. Still, it left him with a strong bout of curiosity, one that despite his ardent protests, just wouldn’t go away.

 

“Here you go, Gold.”

 

Rumple blinked and looked ahead at the hand extended to him with his money gripped inside it. In his attempt to find answers, he had neglected to pay attention to Granny’s movements. Rumple took her in, haggard eyes and slowed harsh breathing, denoting a lack of patience. Wherever Ruby was, Granny was certainly feeling her absence. The reason as to why wasn’t difficult to figure out.

 

“Thank you,” Rumple muttered, pocketing the wad of cash. He looked once more to the restaurant’s exist, begging himself to drop the subject. 

 

_ It’s done. Go, you idiot. _

 

Unfortunately, fate, as it often tended to be, was cruel to him, and the curiosity clung to him until he could bear it no longer.

 

_ This had better be worth my time. _

 

“Where’s that granddaughter of yours?”

 

Granny shrugged. “Off, doing God knows what,” she answered, her tone direct and practically rehearsed, sounding like this wasn’t the first she’d heard and answered such a question. “She said she was working at the sheriff’s station now.”

 

“Is she?” That was certainly unexpected, but Rumple guessed that it would be short-lived. If Ruby was at the sheriff’s station, that meant she was with Emma, and as things usually went with Emma, Ruby would find her happy ending soon enough. As for what that ending entailed, while Rumple refused to invest in it, he was quite certain that it would lead her back here. He knew better than most that there was something to family businesses that were hard to ignore, no matter how much one wanted to.

 

But what would happen afterwards? Granny still seemed rather set in whatever bitterness had plagued her since Ruby went away and no doubt contributed to what had ultimately led them apart in the first place. If not resolved, said bitterness could lead to further bitterness, this time on Ruby’s part, and eventually, another fight, and if she went back to Emma, that would only stand to distract her from her other pursuits, namely, breaking the curse.

 

_ Makes enough sense. I refuse to believe that there’s anything other than curiosity for curiosity’s own sake that’s keeping me in this accursed eatery any longer than is needed. _

 

“Yeah. Who knows when she’ll be back - if she comes back at all, that is. Things are changing in this town after all, more and more by the day.”

 

“Oh, she’ll come back,” Rumple dismissed, a wave of his hand emphasizing his point. “She needs you.”

 

Granny scoffed. “You’re probably right,” she boasted. 

 

Something about the way she talked about Ruby, despite her annoyances, had left Rumple with words of his own to say.

 

“And I think it’s safe to say that you need her too, possibly more.” 

 

“How would you know?”

 

“Because we’re all lost without our loved ones. You’re more telling of it than you think you are,” Rumple observed. Granny’s near glare doubled down at Rumple’s bit of sass.

 

_ For as tough as you claim to be, you have the absolute worst poker face I’ve ever seen. _

 

“Oh? And how’s that?”

 

Rumple smirked at her. “You’re stiffer than usual,” he pointed out. “You bite your lip every time someone passes by that door. You’re not as strong as you used to be, and just looking at you following the dinner rush just proved it to me, as I bet it did for you. I bet the idea of handling dinner on your own scares you just as much.”

 

“I’ve handled plenty of dinners in my day.”

 

“Ah, but your days are getting more and more shallow.”

 

“Shut up or I’ll make you  **breathing** more and more shallow,” Granny threatened. The glare that was now present on Granny’s face was enough to make Rumple gulp.

 

_ God, that woman is scary. _

 

“Any way you look at it, you two need one another. She’s young, but not too prideful unless pushed. What she’ll do when she comes home will be up to you.”

 

“Her too,” Granny gruffed. 

 

_ Just as stubborn as her granddaughter. _

 

Rumple eyed her.

 

“It’ll be up to you,” he insisted. Rumple started to head for the door to Granny’s when suddenly, she said something else, something that made him stop in his tracks, if for only a moment.

 

“Ruby sees something good in you. She tells me about it, and I don’t believe it. But right now, I can almost see what she does when she says that there’s an actual person in there somewhere.” Rumple released a light hum. Aside from Miles and Ruby’s words of praise, it was probably the nicest thing anyone had said to him since he first arrived in this world.

 

That wasn’t to say that it was true. Contrary to what any of them, thought, Rumple was evil through and through, and a certain kidnapped woman in the abandoned farmhouse basement was living proof of that.

 

_ Turns out you’re just as blind as her, too. _

 

“I wouldn’t bank on that too hard, but thanks all the same.” Before subjecting himself to another speech from a member of the Lucas family, Rumple took his roll of money and left Granny’s without another word.

 

As Rumple turned to go back to his car, he saw Ruby walking towards her grandmother’s restaurant from further down across the road. She looked unfocused and definitely didn’t notice him, and for that, Rumple was grateful. 

 

The one glance Rumple got at her before turning away told him all that he needed to know about what she was about to do, and despite himself, he felt his lips tug upwards.

 

He scoffed to himself before heading back to his car. Next time he predicted something about the Lucas family, he’d need to put some coin on it.

 

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

 

Rumple squinted as the sunset had a go at his eyes. He had just emerged from the farmhouse, Kathryn’s rations now dropped off for the night. Just as always, Kathryn had screamed for her freedom in hopes of obtaining some hint as to her captor’s identity, but Rumple was resilient and his silence remained unstopped. 

 

The dusty fields surrounding the farm made Rumple want to cough. He was relieved when he could finally climb into his car. As per the routine he had grown acclimated to required, all he had to do was change his clothes and get back home, where Miles and whatever dinner he had prepared for them was waiting. 

 

Rumple entered the house just as the last glimmers of sunlight had disappeared for the evening. He could smell cod cooking in the oven, but couldn’t see Miles in the kitchen. As he walked closer, he saw that Miles was not in the kitchen, but rather the den. A phone was pressed to his ear, and his stub was pressed against his forehead. Below that was a face filled with anguish and devastation. 

 

“Just keep me updated, Swan,” Rumple could hear Miles say into the phone. “Thanks for letting me know.” Miles hung up.  Rumple instinctively walked over and sat beside him. There was such a glumness to Miles, one that was entirely uncanny as well as unbecoming of him.

 

To tell the truth worried Rumple to see him this way.

 

“Miles what’s going on?”

 

“You didn’t hear?” Rumple’s brow furrowed.

 

“No,” he answered, slowly shaking his head.

 

“Mary Margaret’s been arrested for the murder of Kathryn Nolan.”

 

Rumple said nothing as he tried to work through what he had just heard. He didn’t doubt Miles, especially seeing as how he had just got off the phone with Emma, but it didn’t make things any less shocking. Rumple instinctually picked up the television remote and turned it on. As he suspected, news of the arrest had made it to the local stations. From beside him, Miles released a mix of a groan and a grunt. 

 

“They’re going to eat her alive,” Miles muttered. Rumple knew that to be true. Storybrooke, given it’s small size, fell prey to gossip most all the time. Emma Swan’s reputation was a living testament to that.

 

_ That they will. _

 

Of course, Rumple knew that this was bound to happen. He had left the how of the matter to Regina, and to her credit, she was clever. If her earlier sabotaging of Mary Margaret’s reputation wasn’t bad enough already, this certainly would be the thing to do her in.

 

That is, should she be convicted at all.

 

An idea stuck.

 

Rumple was given temporary pause at the notion of taking on such a role, but just as quickly as it had came, a litany of contingency plans had made it pass.

 

_ Maybe, just maybe, I can turn the tables on Regina yet. _

 

Miles seemed to pick up on the same point. He turned to Rumple, now smiling hopefully at him.

 

“Rob, you’re a lawyer, the best damn lawyer in this town. You can defend her!” 

 

_ Well, I suppose I could. It’s been quite a while since I got to taunt Regina with legal texts, and the last time was about as fun as a barrel of flying monkeys. _

 

_ Although without a fracture or two, it’ll be a little less fun. _

 

_ Ah well. Nothing’s perfect. _

 

Rumple clapped his hand onto Miles knee and grinned. “You know what, Miles? You’re absolutely right. I think I shall.” 

 

Miles’ smile broadened. “You’ll win,” he said, confidence clearly in every word spoken. “I’ve no doubt.” Rumple was as determined as ever to prove Miles right. “I also take it that you’ll be working in your study tonight?” Rumple nodded.

 

“That I will,” he confirmed. “Litigation requires time.”

 

“Then I’ll bring your dinner downstairs and leave you to it.” Miles placed a soft kiss on Rumple’s cheek before leaving for the kitchen. Rumple smiled at him, clicked his tongue, and then headed for the basement.

 

_ It’s time for this week’s actions to truly begin. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just as Rumple said: “It’s time for the fun to truly begin.”
> 
> What does that mean for Kathryn, Mary Margaret, Emma, and Regina? And where will Miles fit into all of this? Well, that’s what you have to tune in for!
> 
> And while you’re itching for answers, itch up my comment box with a nice little review for my troubles, and let me know what you think! 
> 
> Whether you do or don’t, have a happy, loving, and safe holidays, wherever you are!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you would like to review, I would appreciate it a lot!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Night of Nights](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13803132) by [Grumpy_writer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grumpy_writer/pseuds/Grumpy_writer)




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